


One Night Only

by blythechild



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexuality, Comfort/Angst, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Friends to Lovers, Late Night Conversations, Leaving? What Leaving?, Literal Sleeping Together, Misunderstandings, Nerdiness, Porn with Feelings, Revelations, Romantic Friendship, Secrets, Sharing a Bed, Storms, Stranded, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trauma, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid and Prentiss get stranded at a motel during a storm and decide to play Truth or Dare to pass the time. The results are both expected <i>and</i> unexpected.</p><p> </p><p>This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story contains mature themes as well as sexual content and shouldn't be read by those under the age of 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by two prompts. The first was from dionne_2k who asked for: _Reid & Prentiss have a long conversation, that hints at potential romantic feelings, whilst trapped alone somewhere._ She gave me the prompt ages ago but it took me this long to come up with something. The story was also inspired by the 'one night only' prompt at the fan_flashworks community on Livejournal, but because this ended up being so long, I missed the window of opportunity to post it to their challenge. I'm doomed to fail at that comm...

By the time they made it to the motel, the headlights were barely illuminating eight feet ahead of them and the wind had nearly blown them off the road three times. Reid was white-knuckling it in the passenger seat while Prentiss gripped the wheel and leaned as close to the windshield as the seatbelt would allow. They were lucky that they found the place at all. The car pulled into the parking lot and then gave up with a soggy sputter that indicated how American-made compacts handled flood conditions. Prentiss shrugged as she gave in and squinted at the buzzing sign that advertised the place.

“Great. This looks like the perfect place for anonymous sex with a local stranger.” Her tone was glib but Reid remembered the look on her face after they’d made it through the last washout by the skin of their teeth; the storm scared her.

He ignored the sex comment and tried for dry humor instead. “Look on the bright side. Maybe it’s just an awesome place to kill someone.”

She stared at him for a moment, analyzing through her mess of soggy hair. “It’s just work, work, work with you, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. _Good. Well-played._

“Go see if there’s any room at the inn,” she smirked. “Or whether they have a convenient stable to crash in.”

“Your biblical metaphors are muddied. We’d be better off asking for an ark pass.” 

He ducked out into the hurricane before she could answer and headed for the only part of the building that was well lit. He was sure that the power would cut out soon but hoped that they might get lucky. The idea of hunkering down in a dead car in a motel parking lot held no interest for him. He also hoped that the place had a working landline so that he could call Hotch and let him know that they were safe and would sit out the storm rather than risk the treacherous drive back to Quantico tonight.

After a certain amount of haggling and officially-guised threats Reid emerged back out into the soaking onslaught with a key. He knocked on the driver’s side window and Prentiss’s shadow jumped before she recognized him. He momentarily felt bad for scaring her, but there was worse news to come.

“You got a room?” she yelled into the sideways rain as she ran to the trunk to retrieve their go bags.

“Yeah,” he yelled back and then they both sprinted for the shelter of the motel’s covered walkway. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

“Why?”

He led them to the last unit at the far end of the motel strip. It was the furthest from the main office and the light over the door was burnt out. It had easy access to the parking lot and the road to the state highway just beyond it.

“Oh my God,” Prentiss huffed, half amused and half aggravated. “We got the Murder Room. I guess you were right after all.”

Reid quickly unlocked the door and they both huddled inside, dripping and wind-whipped. The door slammed and he flicked on the lights to reveal the true horror of their accommodations.

“Well, shit,” Prentiss grumbled and dropped their bags.

“Also,” Reid added unnecessarily as Prentiss took in the general despair of the room. “They only had a single available. One bed. And he charged a larcenous price for it too.”

“Huh.”

“I’ll take the floor.” Reid manned up but viewed the deep, worn pile of the carpeting with faint nausea.

“Relax, Reid. Sleeping with you is the least of my worries at the moment.”

Reid gave her statement a double take but Prentiss just walked into the room and sought out the bathroom. She disappeared and then immediately returned, face pale and eyes wide.

“Don’t go in there unless you have to.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Consider using a bucket instead.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah. How long do you think the storm could last?”

Reid shrugged, his sneakers making a wet squelching sound as he shifted his weight. “Dunno. A few days maybe? The news said the eye was quite large, but the worst of it might be past by tomorrow. It depends if the storm’s shifted.” He looked around. There was no tv, of course, and their cells hadn’t been able to get a signal since mid-afternoon. There was no way to know anything at this point. He decided to try an air of optimism. “Tomorrow. We can probably get out tomorrow.”

Prentiss let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her forehead. Her hair and clothes were soaked through and she looked very uncomfortable. He tried to think of something that would cheer her up but then the sky lit up and a tremendous thunderclap shook the windows making her visibly jump again. She shrugged it off with a growl and then headed for the bed. He rushed forward to stop her.

“Wait…”

“What?”

Reid stripped the bed’s comforter and blanket and dumped them on the floor. Then he checked under the fitted sheet and saw the rubber covering. _Thank goodness for small mercies._ The sheets had a vague hint of bleach about them.

“There,” he waved her towards the bed. “The only things that get cleaned less than hotel carpeting are the bedspreads and blankets.”

“Oh.” Prentiss made a face.

“S’okay. The mattress is wrapped in plastic. Whether it’s for the bedbugs or for easy clean-up, I wouldn’t hazard a guess.”

“Oh, Reid…” she whined.

“Sorry.” He looked away, embarrassed. “I guess you didn’t need to access the vast archive of knowledge I have about hotel cleanliness.”

Usually she’d reassure him but instead she just flopped down on the edge of the bed and stared, all exhausted and damp. Eventually, she remembered him there and looked back.

“Sit,” she said quietly. Honestly, there was nothing else she could say.

He looked around and saw a cheap Shaker knock-off next to a small desk. He pulled it close to the bed and dropped down into it, staring back at her. He was pretty exhausted too - the storm came on top of two days of custodial interviews and the combination had done him in. But the chair was immensely uncomfortable. He wondered if he’d be able to convince his body to sleep in it.

“Wish I could clean up,” she murmured after a long silence. “But I’m too scared of that bathroom…”

Reid got up and went to fetch his go bag. He opened and rooted through it. Most of the contents were damp, if not outright soaking, but he found what he was looking for and smiled.

“Here,” he tossed her a purple towel that was mostly dry. “I didn’t use it on this trip.”

“You bring your own towels when you travel?” A smile cracked her exhaustion.

“Believe it or not, that’s not part of the germ thing. It’s more of a creature comfort.”

She buried her face in the towel and he thought he heard a sigh of pleasure, then she was scrubbing her hair and making a crazy tangle out of it. He found it delightful. “This is a really nice towel, Reid.”

“Yeah,” he flushed as he admitted it. “I’m a bit of a linens whore. I buy my clothes at consignment shops but I like my towel loops deep and plentiful, and my thread counts on the high side.”

She laughed out loud at that and he grinned in return.

“The things I never knew about you, Doctor…”

Prentiss rose and went to get her own go bag, which appeared to be worse for wear. She tore through it but came up with limited dry clothing options. Just a pair of running shorts.

“Fabulous,” she muttered to herself.

“Nothing’s dry?”

“Just some shorts. No shirts.”

“Well…” Reid rooted around again and then hit paydirt. “I have a dry dress shirt if you wanna give that a try.”

He tossed her the shirt and she brightened considerably. It made him feel warm against his clammy clothes.

“I’m starting to think your go bag is made of magic, Reid.”

He smiled widely. “A bag of infinite holding.” 

“A-ha! That wasn’t nerdy enough…” She waved a finger at him. “I totally got that reference.”

“I’ll have to try harder to alienate you with my geekery.”

She started to strip out of her wet things and then caught herself. She looked around quickly, her eyes trying to avoid the dreaded bathroom. It suddenly hit him what she was doing.

“I’ll turn around,” he said as he stood, turned his back to her, and began wrestling with his own clothes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly after a moment, and he listened intently while she changed waiting for her signal that she was done.

The rustling continued for a while and then settled. She cleared her throat and he turned around to find her curled onto the bed dressed in her FBI shorts and his dress shirt that was comically large on her. He blushed a little to see his sleeves rolled in bunches at her elbows and the deep V made by the gap between the collar and the first button down from it. The shoulders that fit him so snugly drooped over the edges of hers. It was the size of him wrapped around her, dwarfing her… He coughed and looked away, taking his seat again. He’d only managed to change his shirt; his pants were still wet and clinging to him uncomfortably.

“So, what shall we do until dawn?” As soon as he said it, he felt awkward about it. It sounded suggestive to his ears and that wasn’t what he’d intended. Seeing her in his clothes had obviously rattled his control. Thankfully, another thunderclap and a wind gust rattled the room’s windows so violently as to make Prentiss twitch and likely forget whatever suggestion he’d inadvertently made.

“S’okay,” he soothed after the wind died down a little. “We’re on relatively high ground here. There’s a measure of safety in that. You don’t like storms, do you?”

She curled her knees into her chest and for a moment she looked more like a girl than a woman. But just for a moment. “I climbed a water tower during a storm on a dare as a kid. I got trapped there and had to wait it out. One of the scarier nights of my young life…”

He imagined her alone, clinging to a metal staircase in the dark, wind whipping around her and lightning threatening in sporadic bursts. What a foolish, ill-conceived, brave thing to take on…

“Wow. How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“That’s just crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy stupid,” she sighed. “I was so desperate to fit in. Everywhere we moved to it was the same: I always had to prove my worth to the local kids. Over and over and over.”

That shocked him. He never imagined her as being an outsider; that was more his thing. But in a sad way it made sense. He suddenly felt a burst of kinship with her that was new.

“I understand that.”

She looked at him and then smiled, relaxing the grip on her knees and coming back to the confident woman he recognized. “I guess you do. It’s weird that I never told you that story before.”

He shrugged. “Friends tell each other about the stuff they _want_ people to know.”

Prentiss stared at him with a strange smile on her face as she nodded at his statement. Then her expression changed to something mischievous. “I know what we can do to pass the time. Ever play Truth or Dare as a kid?”

He shook his head, and thought that it sounded like a terrible game, whatever it was.

“You take turns at electing to truthfully answer a question posed by your friend, or to take on a dare that they offer. Not many people choose the dare option, so we could just forego that if you want.”

“So, we alternate asking each other questions? That’s it?”

“The questions are usually embarrassing, private, or both. The sorta stuff friends don’t want friends to know about, as you pointed out.”

“Oh. And you have to answer truthfully?”

She nodded.

“What happens if you don’t?” 

She blinked. “Umm, nothing, really. If we had booze, the liar would have to take a shot. I guess you just have to live with being a jerk about it. And also, we’re both profilers, so we’d _know_ if the other was lying.”

“Hmmm…” It seemed like an activity rife with pitfalls, but also tantalizing and secret. He’d get to know her better, and she him, and not in a way that the other team members would. It was exciting that she’d even offered him the opportunity, really. Despite their years of friendship, he understood that there was still plenty that he didn’t know about her. He nodded, mind made up and stomach already in knots at his foolishness. “Okay. Just for tonight, nothing but the truth. Ask away.”

She rubbed her hands together gleefully and grinned. _What have I agreed to?_

“I’ll start with an easy one… what’s your favorite horror movie?”

He quirked an eyebrow. Really? Okay… “ _House of a Thousand Corpses_.”

She looked confused.

“I like my horror movies surreal, intellectually disturbing, and vaguely perverted,” he shrugged and then she threw her head back and laughed, which caused him to smile while fighting his embarrassment. _Must be playing this game right after all…_

“I KNEW you had to have a deviant side to you. That’s awesome,” she cackled and pointed at him. “Okay, your turn.”

“Ummm.” He wanted to strike the right note; she’d given him an easy question so he should return the favor even though he had dozens of more serious queries bubbling under his surface. “What’s the thing that scares you the most? You know, that kind of feral fear from childhood that you never shake…”

She’d already admitted to the storm thing - she could use that as an out.

“Clowns.”

He gave her an unimpressed look. “Everyone’s afraid of clowns, Prentiss.”

“Not everyone. Morgan wanted to hire one for Henry’s last birthday party until J.J. put her foot down.”

“Well, everyone _should_ be afraid of clowns. It’s just sensible. Morgan is obviously weird,” he clarified. “Okay, I’ll give you a pass on that one. Your turn.”

She laughed and then let it die down. She fixed him with a stare that suggested something private. “Since you brought up deviancy…” _Oh, here it comes._ “When did you lose your virginity? And with whom? And where?”

“That’s three questions.”

“It’s a multi-part question. Singular,” she insisted. “And it’s my question.

He huffed and sagged into his chair. It wasn’t a single question and his answer would prompt more of them, which he supposed was the point of this to begin with.

“I’m prefacing this by telling you that you are not allowed any indignation at my answer. It was completely consensual.”

“Oh my God, you were underage?” Her eyes widened.

“It was my second year in college. I was sixteen, and an emancipated minor, by the way,” he pointed out. “He was only five years older than me. That wouldn’t be anything today, but it would have been scandalous back then, I suppose. What a difference a little maturity makes…”

“Your first time was with a man?” Something strange colored her face and then she shifted, dropping her eyes away from his. “I didn’t know you were gay, Reid.”

“I’m not.” She looked back at him confused again. “I mean, that’s not how I see myself. I don’t really care for any label that’s currently available. I’ve been with both genders. I like whom I like - that’s it.”

Prentiss thought about that in silence for a while and Reid let her do it undisturbed. He wondered if this new information would change them. The fear of that was precisely why he’d never told anyone about it before. This truth stuff was a dangerous game indeed.

“Did you like it?” she asked shyly, and he was a little taken aback.

“Yes. I mean… I liked _him_. Sex was a way of showing that. Perhaps I enjoyed him more than the act itself.” He waited a moment and then thought he’d earned the right to ask a question in return. “Why did you ask that?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t like it the first time I tried it.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He thought she was asking whether he liked _gay sex_ rather than sex in general. “Why not?”

“ ‘Cause neither one of us knew what we were doing.” She rolled her eyes and seemed to gain a little of her confidence back. Some tension that had crept into him unwound. “It was a damned mess - not at all like I thought it would be. Nearly turned me off the whole thing for good.”

Laughter bubbled out of him - he couldn’t help it - and she laughed back. “It got better though,” she winked at him.

“Yes, thank goodness it does otherwise the species would die out.” He grinned, feeling back on solid ground again.

“I gotta say, Reid, I’m impressed. This makes me feel sorta vanilla by comparison.” She blushed and ducked her eyes away from his. Something warm, and a little boastful, spread through him. He was sure that it was the wrong reaction but she continued talking before he could fight himself on it. “So, what was he like, your older, deflowering dreamboat?”

He huffed in mock exasperation. “I wasn’t some delicate blossom… he was just a guy. He was nice and smart and kind to me when most of the world wasn’t that generous with its consideration.”

“What happened to him?”

“First loves don’t last,” Reid waved it off. “In time, we broke it off. We weren’t compatible in the long run: he was a physicist studying loop quantum gravity theory.” He made a face.

“His quantum opinions didn’t pass muster?” she giggled, apparently surprised that he would end things for intellectual reasons.

“Please. I’m an amateur at quantum theory but even I know that sounds like hogwash. And I was _sixteen_ \- I knew I was just beginning. My tastes have changed.”

He watched her laugh and slowly uncurl along the bed. She must have felt the tension as well - now her whole body seemed to ease into this new information and the understanding it brought. He wondered if she’d caught his last statement, but chastised himself for thinking that it was important right now. Her laughter died down and the rain tapped at the windows and her bare heels made a soft skimming sound as she stretched out over the sheets. He took it all in and thought about how close and private this scene was, and how much he was enjoying it. Friendships could take evolutionary leaps in moments like these.

“Is it my turn again?” he asked.

“I guess.”

He held his breath for a moment, and then went for broke. He knew the answer already but he wanted her to understand how much of a risk he’d made by being truthful when he didn’t want to be.

“Rossi told me something about you. About when you were sixteen in Italy.” He held her eyes for a moment to gain her complete attention. “Is it true?”

“He… he told you that?”

“He was drunk,” Reid added quickly. “And the next day he swore me to secrecy. As if that wasn’t already a given. Perhaps he was under the impression that it was something I already knew.”

Reid remembered the feeling of shock that day, quickly followed by a sticky sort of resentment that she’d confided something so personal to _Rossi_ instead of him. After all, _he_ was her friend, and their friendship was both the puzzle and the envy of the rest of the team. Prentiss shook her head and Reid thought that she was refusing to answer, that she was going to shut this volatile game down now that things were uncomfortable. But she just sighed instead and kept going.

“It’s okay. Yes, it’s true: I got pregnant when I was sixteen and I had an abortion. Another one of those stupid, fitting in sort of dares, I guess. My friend Matthew helped me through it but I was never able to return the favor.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He _was_ sorry, and also impressed that she’d been truthful about it.

“But that was the point you were making, wasn’t it?”

Now he was embarrassed because of course she’d be able to read him as well as he could read her.

“We don’t have to keep playing,” she said.

“But I have more questions…”

She looked a little surprised and then nodded, gesturing for him to take another turn.

“Is… is that incident why you don’t have a family?” He’d wanted to ask that question ever since Rossi had made his drunken slip.

She gathered herself to answer but he could see that it was all internal shuffling - her body remained as it was on the bed. “I don’t have a family because I never found anyone that I fit with. My job was a priority for a long time, I was undercover a lot… it just wasn’t a realistic option. And now I’m forty.” She huffed. “Maybe some things are for the best.”

“But… what about Declan?” he persisted. 

“That was a case.”

“Doyle was a case. Declan was a little boy. You protected him, Ian asked you to become his mother… did you ever consider it?”

Prentiss stared at him, cold and unreadable. “If his father hadn’t been a murderous, internationally-wanted terrorist… maybe.”

“Okay,” Reid raised his hands in surrender. “That was a terrible ‘for instance’. I’m just saying, you could still have a family even if it wasn’t biologically yours.”

“But you weren’t listening,” she leaned forward. “I never found anyone I fit with.”

So the sticking point was partnership. He hadn’t expected that. Prentiss was always so independent that he imagined her being a single mom if she’d really wanted it. It never occurred to him that the girl who’d climb a water tower during a thunderstorm would insist on a partner before she considered having a family. But then again, maybe that made sense. Hadn’t she climbed that tower, done all of those risky things in order _to be with people?_ Maybe she wanted to belong as badly as he did, she was just better at hiding it.

“What about you?” She broke him from his line of reasoning. “I’ve seen you with Henry and Jack. You seem to have overcome The Reid Effect. Ever think about having a child?”

“I can’t,” he said reflexively.

Her expression melted into grief so sharply he wondered what he’d done wrong, and then he caught up with her.

“No, nothing like that. I can physically have children, but I won’t because of Mom. I lucked out and avoided the schizophrenia gene but I won’t subject a child to that sort of risk.”

“But… it would only be 25%...”

“Would _you_ find that a comforting number if you were considering having a child with someone like me?” He said it quickly, without thinking, and then looked away as his face heated. She wasn’t going to have kids and certainly not with him. It was a stupid thing to say.

“I think that if I was with someone like you,” she said carefully. “And if I loved you enough to want a family, it would be something I’d want to discuss. I wouldn’t want you to have made up your mind for both of us.”

He looked up at her then and saw the sincerity of her statement on her face. He didn’t agree with her, but he admired the sentiment. It would be amazing to be loved enough by someone that they’d be willing to accept such a risk. He nodded in gratitude of that, if nothing else.

“The point is moot,” he added quietly. “Like you, I wouldn’t want to do it alone. I can’t see myself married.”

“Is that because you don’t believe in it?” 

“I believe in marriage.” He felt slightly affronted and she seemed surprised by that. “Maybe I don’t believe in the religious or historically commercial overtones to it but…”

“I figured, since you don’t believe in God…”

“I’m perplexed by an institution that perpetuates the idea of an omnipotent being who takes attendance and has a personal stake in my lowly morality,” he said dryly. “To me, God is a dare - and a surprisingly noble one - for humans to be better than they are. That’s all. Anything more would be an inexcusable waste of resources.”

“But, if God could do everything ever conceived all at once, _would_ checking in on your lowly morality actually be a waste of resources?”

 _Hmmm._ He scratched his chin and considered that but then heard her laughter again. He looked up.

“I love your confused face,” she grinned. “It’s adorable.”

“I’m not confused, I’m _thinking_ ,” he snorted, but felt his blush spreading. “Anyway, in answer to one of your many questions this evening: I believe in the modern construct of sharing a life exclusively with one intimate. Frankly, I don’t know who in their right mind would turn that down. So, yes - THAT kind of marriage, yes. But marriages by and large rarely work out that way, do they? And, anyway, I’m twitchy and unappealing so there haven’t been a flood of offers.”

“You’re joking, right?” She wasn’t laughing anymore.

“No, I’m not. No one has asked me to marry them.”

“I meant are you joking about being unappealing?”

“I wasn’t joking about that either.”

She made a kind of frustrated growling noise that he didn’t know how to interpret and he shifted in his chair as he tried to lean closer and see her more clearly. One of the wooden rods jabbed his back and he grunted, trying again to make himself comfortable in the torture device and his soaked pants.

“Why are you sitting over there?” she sighed at his display. “Just come here. I won’t bite and we’ve just established that you aren’t a virgin who needs to protect his reputation, so…”

He smirked. “You’re so decorous, Prentiss.”

“C’mon. Bed, now.” She patted the mattress beside her. “Wait… should I frame it as a question? That way you’d be obligated to respond. Bed, _now?_ ”

“Alright, alright…” He stood and his pants pitched him along the inseam, which made him twitch. He wished he had some dry ones. Just as he was about to bemoan this state of being, there was a tremendous flash and clap of thunder, and then the room was plunged into darkness. He heard Prentiss gasp sharply.

“I suppose that was bound to happen,” he sighed, in part to let her know he was there and she was safe.

“This is the part in the horror movie where things start to go downhill fast. Listen, could you just get over here?” Her voice was tight. “I know it’s silly…”

“But it scares you, I know. It’s fine, Emily.”

He moved to the edge of the bed but with every step his pants made him more uncomfortable. He stopped, leaned his head back in the dark and was glad that she wouldn’t see how embarrassed he was about to become.

“Ummm, Emily? I need to ask your indulgence.”

“What is it?”

“My pants are completely soaked. They’re really uncomfortable and cold, and sadly, I don’t have any dryer alternatives.” He sighed expansively. “Would you mind terribly if I took them off before I joined you?”

There was a stretch of silence so long that Reid thought he might actually spend the night sleeping on the floor after all. Then she murmured.

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to seduce me?”

He could hear her trying to stifle more laughter.

“You wouldn’t find this so amusing if _you_ were the one with testicles bound up in soggy Saran Wrap…” he grumbled.

“Everything about you attempting chivalry in sodden pants is amusing, trust me,” she cackled, and he had to admit that he was relieved. “Eighty-six the pants. You have my permission to free ball it.”

“I’m wearing underwear,” he said disgustedly as he struggled out of his trousers, but she just continued laughing.

He climbed onto the bed and tried to arrange himself so that he wasn’t touching her, but once he settled, she butted up next to him, her warmth lining him from shoulder to knee on the double bed.

“Is it your turn or mine now?” he asked to distract himself. “I’ve lost track.”

“I think it’s mine,” she said.

“Okay. I assume since we’re in bed together, you’ll be inspired to ask something mortifying.”

“I hate to be a foregone conclusion but… yes.” She nudged him playfully. “The embarrassing stuff is just more fun. Do you mind?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to say no, am I? Rules of the game.”

“True,” she mused momentarily. “Okay. Have you ever done anything illegal?”

“We’re both federal agents. If I admit to illegal activity, you are required to report it to Hotch and I’ll be out of a job.”

“We’re in bed together, I’m wearing your clothes, and you don’t have any pants on. Have we not established a level of trust here yet?” she snarked.

“Fine,” he huffed with considerable snark of his own. “Yes, I’ve done illegal things. I assume that you have a follow-up question for me.”

“Of course. What have you done?”

“Well, aside from purchasing and using a Schedule II narcotic without a prescription for recreational means…” He paused for effect because she already knew this information and very few others did. He wanted her to understand that his trust in her went way back. “I’ve been banned from several casinos in Vegas for card counting. And, I suppose that my first relationship technically qualified as statutory rape, but we’ve already covered that one.”

“You were caught counting cards in Vegas?” She sounded impressed. “How do you still have all of your limbs intact?”

“I was never _caught_ doing anything, that’s how. My ‘luck’ was merely suspicious. Honestly, if I hadn’t been desperate for the money no one would’ve suspected a thing.”

“What did you need the money for?”

“Bennington. Selling the house only bought Mom a year’s worth of care, and I was still a student back then. There was no way for me to get that kind of money legitimately.”

“Oh, Spencer…” He felt her hand squeeze his arm.

“Don’t feel sorry for us,” he warned quietly. “We managed better than a lot of people. I’m lucky that I have the skill to provide as comfortable a life for her as possible. If I’d been forced to place her in a state-run facility…” He shuddered noticeably. “Mom’s worth the risk.”

“‘Worth the risk’? You still do it?”

Reid squirmed next to her. “How much do you imagine that I make at the Bureau? There’s no ‘genius bonus’ on my paycheck or anything. A few casinos in Vegas haven’t heard of me, and then there’s Atlantic City or private games…”

He turned to face her in the dark. “Don’t tell Hotch.”

She squeezed his arm again tightly and sighed but didn’t say anything. _Okay._

“Have you ever done anything illegal?” he asked after a long contemplative silence.

He felt her nod beside him. “I smoked a little weed in college. I may or may not have run naked across Harvard Yard while being chased by campus security once.”

Reid’s eyebrows rose at that. Oh boy, did he have follow-up questions…

“I used to boost cars as a teenager for fun,” she continued. “And I did plenty of things that may have been sanctioned by Interpol and the State Department that nevertheless weren’t strictly legal.”

“Wait, wait, back up for a minute… you _stole cars?_ ”

“‘Stole’ is such a loaded term. I borrowed them - the owners always got them back.”

“Emily!”

“What? I liked to joyride and piss off my mother. Boosting a car now and then accomplished both of those impulses nicely. Two birds,” she said matter-of-factly.

She couldn’t see it but he was grinning like a maniac. He imagined her hotwiring some stuffy diplomat’s luxury car and roaring into the night, pumping the stereo and rolling down the windows so she could feel the wind in her hair. He could practically feel the sense of release rolling off the idea.

“I wish I’d known you then,” he said wistfully. “When was the last time you did it?”

“Haven’t stolen a car in almost fifteen years…” It sounded like she missed it.

“Wow. Both of us are undercover felons. Can you imagine what else HR has missed throughout the Bureau? The possibilities are terrifying.”

She chuckled and when she did, her shoulder and thigh pressed against him more insistently. He warmed and smiled thinking that the game was stripping away some barriers that six years of friendship hadn’t already managed. It was probably more heady and compelling than was safe. Then she suddenly leaned in and whispered.

“Maybe I’ll take you out for a spin sometime if you show me a few winning card tricks.”

She was still holding onto his arm while pressing against him, her words brushing the bare skin of his neck. The warmth he’d been feeling kicked up another notch and he gave himself over to the secret joy of the moment. He leaned towards her until he felt the collar of her borrowed shirt brush his cheek.

“Any time. Just say the word.”

Lightning lit the room for a split second. He saw her smile and the happy, conspiratorial expression she wore up close. Then they were dropped back into darkness again as thunder rattled the motel walls. This time, however, she didn’t flinch. He reached out and found her arm just below the rolled sleeve and caressed it; he wasn’t sure what he was saying with it but he felt compelled to do it anyway.

“It’s your turn,” she said quietly.

“Oh. Let’s see…” He tried to collect himself. “We’ve covered first times, drug use, criminal histories, religion… hmmm. I know: tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Prentiss shuffled a little and appeared to take some time to consider her options. Her hand left his arm and he felt the loss of it a little too much. He wondered if he’d somehow crossed a line again.

“Ummm, well…” she hesitated. “When I was twenty I tried to be an artist’s model for some extra cash.”

She paused and he didn’t understand her reluctance. Being an artist’s model wasn’t so bad.

“Is there more?” he asked.

“Yeah, sort of,” she sighed. “I _tried_ but I couldn’t do it. A painter hired me from an ad that I placed in the student union and I felt all empowered and sexy on the way there, but when I got to his studio, well…”

“Well what?”

“He was perfectly nice and professional but I just got more and more nervous. I changed into a robe and he told me what pose he wanted but when it came time to bare it all… I got sick. I mean, I almost didn’t make it to his washroom and then I heaved like drunk in there for, like, ten minutes. It was humiliating. And then, you know, I had to come back out and get my clothes and try to explain to him that I couldn’t go through with it…”

“Oh boy. What did he say?”

“He was really cool about it. I guess I was fortunate. He even gave me cab fare back to campus. But I swear to God I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. And I never told anyone… until now.”

“Well, I can see why you kept it to yourself, but I think your reaction was completely understandable at the time. Sometimes we’re braver than we think but that also means that sometimes we think we’re braver than we actually are. You’re fortunate that you found that out with a minimum of witnesses.”

“Huh, thanks,” she sighed.

“And don’t worry,” he tried to lighten the mood. “I’ll take your barfing nudist story to my grave.”

“If you ever refer to it as my ‘barfing nudist story’ again, your grave may appear sooner than you think.” She shoved him but he could hear the humor in her voice and rolled with it playfully. “Okay, Genius, you’re up: tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

He thought for a long time and then decided, _yes_. “I had a sister.”

He heard her sharp gasp next to him and felt in mirrored in the tension suddenly running along her arm. “What?”

“Yeah, I pretty much had the same reaction when I found out.”

“But… I mean… I don’t even know where to begin. What did your Mom say?”

“She doesn’t know that I know. I was doing some research into William during the whole Riley Jenkins thing a few years back and after I found out about his other family, I just kept going. You know how tunnel-visioned I can get sometimes.”

He felt her nod. “So, what did you discover?”

“Her name was Amelia, she was born two years before me, and she lived for sixteen hours.”

“Oh, Spence…” Her voice broke quietly.

“The death certificate said she died of heart failure but she was born perfectly healthy with no congenital conditions. You know that medical examiners put heart failure down when they can’t find any other obvious cause… I suppose that these things just happen sometimes.”

“Your Mom must have been devastated.”

“That’s sorta why I never told her that I know. I was pretty angry with both her and William when I found out, but then I thought it through… _really_ thought about it. Mom’s always been so protective of me. I thought it was because I was so different, but maybe it was also because of Amelia. I can’t imagine how Mom handled losing a child and, in the end, I decided that my right to know about my sister didn’t trump Mom’s peace of mind. So, I kept it to myself.”

Prentiss was silent for an instant and then her arm reached across his chest and squeezed him firmly in a half hug. “Christ, you’re a good son, Spencer Reid.”

There was a strange, sharp expanding feeling at the center of him, and he ducked his head so that his damp hair shielded his face as he tried to hide from her praise.

“I wonder what she would’ve been like,” Prentiss murmured. “Your sister…”

“I like to imagine her like Mom: tall, fair, with a keen mind…”

“So, a lot like you as well.”

“I guess.” He ducked his head again. He was bad at this compliment thing.

“That’s a nice idea - I really like it. Thanks for telling me about her, Spencer.”

He breathed out long and low, strain ebbing away as he did so. “It feels good to finally talk about Amelia out loud. I’ve always felt that she deserves to be more than a family secret.”

“And now she is because she exists in my mind as well. Tall and fair and with a keen mind.”

He smiled into the darkness.

“Okay, it’s my turn again,” she said.

“It seems like you’re always asking the questions.”

“That’s totally false. It doesn’t count as asking a question when I throw your question back onto you. That’s just conversation,” she insisted.

“Hmmmm, sounds like a convenient grey area…”

“Yes, it is,” she gloated. “Now, moving on… what’s the thing that’s surprised you the most while working for the FBI?”

“Well, I think it would have to be all the hugging that’s involved.”

He felt her turn to face him.

“It’s too dark to be sure but I’m sensing that you are giving me ‘a look’ right now,” he said.

“The hugging? Explain that because I think you’re having me on and, if so, that’s against the rules.”

“I’m being completely honest.” His voice rose a bit in his defense. “When I first arrived at the Bureau I was almost hysterically touch-phobic - way worse than I am now.”

It wasn’t lost on him that he was half dressed and snuggled next to her while discussing his legendary haphephobia. How things change.

“Everyone was pretty freaked out by it and responded with ridiculous, enabling deference to it, which was probably the worst thing for me. But not Garcia. I mean, she knew about it, she even discussed it with me, but her conclusion was that she was _not_ going to indulge it and instead unleashed a merciless campaign of hugging on me.”

Prentiss giggled a little. “Yeah, Penelope doesn’t have a lot of respect for boundaries.”

“Must be a hacker thing,” Reid grumbled and Prentiss snorted with amusement. “Anyway, she was totally unrelenting about it and I was appalled, but then, one day after a rough case she made the rounds in the bullpen and gave us each a hug and when she got to me I found myself relaxing and hugging her back. I just felt _better_ afterwards and that’s when I finally got it. After that, I didn’t fight her about it ever again and, in the long view, it’s really helped me be a better agent. Our cases are about people - connections - not just profiles and evidence. If it hadn’t been for all of the forced hugging, I never would have wrapped my head around that. And, yeah, I’ve come to enjoy it despite myself.”

“Wow,” she huffed. “Okay, I believe that, and I felt sure that you were lying to me when you first said it.”

Reid made a ‘there you go’ hand gesture in the dark.

“So, I guess part of the reason why you can be in bed with me right now is because of Garcia?”

“Indeed. Without her, you’d probably have to scrape me off the ceiling.” He looked up and felt her do the same.

“Probably the cleanest part of this room,” she mumbled and he chuckled.

“My turn,” he chirped up. “Where have you always wanted to go but never managed to visit?”

“Istanbul,” she answered without hesitation. For some reason, he expected something more exotic, or for her to search longer before answering.

“You’ve never been? Really? Huh. Well, you should definitely go if you have the opportunity. Fascinating people. Great coffee.”

“You’ve been to Istanbul…”

He nodded. “A chess master lives there and he hosted a private challenge in 2005. Big fun.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said disbelievingly. “I can’t believe you’ve been to Istanbul and I haven’t it.”

“So much you don’t know about me, Prentiss. Up is down, black is white…”

“Right, well… next question then,” she huffed. “What physical trait would you most like to have?”

He wondered if she was expecting some sort muscles/six-pack/penile length response. “I kinda wish that I ran _less_ like a girl.”

“That’s a sexist remark. _I’m_ a girl…”

“And you run like an impressive man. As I said, up is down, black is white…”

“You’re ridiculous.” She pinched him and he yelped _like a girl._ He moved on.

“What is your dream job? Assuming that anonymous federal law enforcement drone isn’t it…”

She snorted. “International art forger.”

“Interesting,” he grinned. “High brow _and_ dangerous… I like it.”

“It just always seemed sexy as hell to me.”

He was trying not to imagine her in a black cat burglar outfit or working away in a hidden atelier splattered in oil paint. In a life filled with intrigue and secrets, every detail would have inflamed importance, every impulse would be more intense. Maybe that’s what she found alluring: the heightened passion of it all. He flushed beside her wondering if she’d ever role-played the fantasy out to explore the kink. Being with someone with such urgency because you could be caught at any moment, risking everything to live without restraint or rules… Even just imagining it made something flash over his skin, all hot and vital. He suddenly reeled himself back in. _Where had that come from?_ He cleared his throat.

“Your turn.”

He felt her eying him in the dark and then lightning lit them up bright as day for an instant. Her expression was sly but carefully so, as if her question were just the final statement in a long conversation she was having with herself. “Have you ever slept with someone at work?”

That one was easy. “No.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“That’s a separate question.”

“Well, _that’s_ the question I want answered then.”

“I think you’re cheating at this.” He tried to sound scandalized.

“C’mooooon, Speeeeenceeeeeer,” she whined. “Answer the question.”

He sighed, feeling that white-hot urgency thrum through him again and trying to stow it safely away. “Yes, I’ve thought about it.”

She waited for a long moment. “And?”

“And what? I answered your question.”

“It was the barest answer you could manage.”

“Is there a rule that I have to elaborate?”

“C’mon, loosen up a little. Everyone fantasizes - it’s normal. Who do you fantasize about? Is it Morgan? I bet it’s Morgan…” she gushed and his nervousness began to ratchet up geometrically.

“It’s not Morgan.”

“Really? Why not? He’s gorgeous.”

“He’s handsome, sure, but that’s not enough for me. Besides, I see him as a family member. How does he put it?”

“Brother by a different mother,” she said.

“Exactly, so there’s no way I’m bedding him down, real or imagined.” Reid hoped this might deflect her interest a little. “If I wanted a challenging male fantasy I’d choose Hotch.”

Prentiss nearly doubled over when she guffawed.

“Your amusement isn’t flattering,” he said dryly.

“Sorry,” she tried to get herself under control. “It’s just that I can’t imagine Hotch having sex with anyone on the team, or even having sex in a general sense. I mean, I have a hard time picturing him naked without an official request filled out in triplicate. And with another man? I think he’d have to be heavily sedated for that to happen.”

“Which is why it’s not something that I’ve spent any real time entertaining. I’m just saying, he’s more my type than Morgan is.”

“Well then, if it’s not Morgan or Hotch, then who? You wouldn’t seriously consider Rossi, would you? He’s a lot older than you…”

“Why are you only thinking about men?” he asked too sharply, suddenly irritated with her giddiness. “I told you I’m not gay.”

“Well, it’s just…”

She was quiet for a moment and in that span he regretted getting this far onto the subject at all. He should’ve told a lie and said that he fantasized about Morgan. She would’ve left it alone after that. Lightning lit them up again and revealed her thinking, her forehead creased with concentration. Thunder and wind shook the building but it didn’t seem to distract her.

“I guess J.J. makes sense,” she concluded quietly. “But I honestly bought into your brother-sister vibe all of this time.”

“Emily,” he sighed in an exasperated way. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Just move on. This is obviously making me uncomfortable and not in a fun way. You have a partial answer. Let it go.”

He didn’t want to lie to her; he’d made a promise - only truth this evening - and he always tried to keep his promises to her. But he didn’t want this going any further.

“Would you be satisfied with a partial answer?” she asked with an edge.

“I’ve grown accustomed to partial answers and half truths. It comes with the work. We won’t always get to know the whole story.”

She sat back from him, their shoulders separating for the first time since he’d joined her on the bed. He tried not to perceive it as a rebuff although he was pretty sure that was exactly what it was.

“You’ve told me about Amelia and your first love. You’ve admitted to crimes and some of your fears, but you won’t tell me about a harmless fantasy? Tell me why I should let this go.”

“Because it’ll ruin things,” he snapped.

She didn’t say anything or move next to him and, despite his embarrassment, he wished the power were on so he could see what she was thinking in that moment. And then, right on a horribly timed cue, lightning lit them up bright as day and briefly revealed her look of undisguised shock before blinding them both into the storm’s dark. He closed his eyes, the lightning’s shadow bright across his eyelids, and sighed deeply no longer worried what she might read into it. It was too late for that now.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed dejectedly. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to apply the ‘one night only’ clause to this little tidbit as well - you know, forget that you figured it out when the morning comes?”

There was another long silence and then a wet intake of breath from her side of the bed.

“Why would you want me to do that?” She sounded really upset at his suggestion. Not awkward or befuddled or uncomfortable, but _distressed_.

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked, now almost as confused as he was mortified.

“Because…” The word rushed out of her and the line of her body was a warm press against his once again, and she grabbed his arm in a death grip, but she couldn’t seem to coax anything further.

He swallowed hard. “I should’ve just lied. I can be convincing when I need to be… please don’t let this change us, Emily. You have no idea what being your friend means to me. You know I don’t have a lot of them.”

Her grip suddenly moved to his chest and grabbed a handful of damp t-shirt, pulling them together. He felt her breath across his collarbones and it was erratic and shallow. He was worried now - this must have really screwed things up. He placed his own hand over hers and tried to think of a way to soothe her. There was a faint tremor vibrating through her grip and by extension into him.

“Please, Em,” he hushed. “I can handle you knowing if you just laugh it off and put it aside. Make it into a friendly joke or something. I can work around it, I promise. I just need you to give me this little lie: pretend you never asked the question.”

“Make it into _a joke?_ ” She sounded angry and she was pulling at his shirt hard enough to have the collar dig into the back of his neck. “This isn’t some clumsy miscue, Spencer, and I’m furious that you want me to act like it is! Why didn’t you tell me? All of these years… all that time, I thought…”

“You thought we were close friends, confidantes,” he interrupted, trying to finish her thought for her and hoping they could get past this. “I know, and now you feel I’ve betrayed that trust, that closeness.”

“All that time, I thought you only saw me as a friend.” Her voice was louder than it needed to be and she shook him by the grip on his shirt for good measure. “That I couldn’t expect anything more from you. I’d never get what I wanted.”

 _What?_ He went completely still. He listened to her ragged breathing and it reminded him to do some breathing of his own. He realized his mouth had fallen open and he snapped it closed audibly.

“You never let on _a damned thing_ , Spencer.” Her voice sounded wet and disbelieving. “How could you? How could you…”

She gave up speaking and went back to shaking him by his shirt. Her other hand had joined the first, gripping a handful along his side close to his hip. He was having a hard time processing the moment; his mind filled with disparate, annoying impulses, and so many questions that he could barely concentrate through the din of the chaos. But then, perhaps mercifully, his body exercised a rare moment of autonomous authority as his arms wrapped her up, fingers tangling in his borrowed shirt and her half-dried hair. He pulled her against him before he could decide if it was wise.

“Emily…” he whispered in shock just above her ear. 

His chest felt like it had detonated and he was bleeding out every inappropriate feeling or thought he’d ever had. The adoration and warmth and closeness were filling the cavity, pressing on his lungs until the moment they’d give out and he’d suffocate. Pints and pints of _her_ flowing freely and slowly choking the life out of him.

She gripped him so hard that he didn’t imagine they could get any closer. In fact, it was the closest they’d ever been. The intensity of it matched the moment outside a fiery cult compound when they’d both cut things too close and nearly collapsed under the guilt of it. He remembered being near tears that day, afraid that he’d never see her again. He’d looked on her bruised mouth and wanted to kiss it until they both figured out what it meant. Maybe that was the first time he recognized his feelings for what they really were. That day she’d ceased to be a colleague and had become something else, but it never occurred to him that the same change might have taken hold of her as well. He felt her shifting against him, her breath skimming across his chest, along his neck and the edge of his jaw as she slowly closed in on his lips.

“You’re a jerk,” she murmured, still clearly angry with him.

He knew what was coming and put a stop to it while his chest ached in protest. Every inch of him ached. His hands moved to cup her face and draw her away from him, out of reach for a kiss.

“Emily-”

“What… why?” she gasped trying to break his hold and push into him.

“We can’t.”

“We most certainly _can_ now that we’ve finally both gained a goddamned clue.”

“No,” he said firmly, still holding her because he couldn’t let go just yet. Not yet. “We can’t.”

She blinked - he could feel the muscles twitching as he held her face. “Is it… are you with someone else?”

“No.” His heart expanded and contracted so swiftly that his answer came out in a painful wheeze. “There’s no room in me for anyone else.”

“Then… explain.”

“The anti-fraternization policy.”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted softly.

“Not even slightly. There’s zero tolerance. We could lose our jobs.”

“Spence,” she sighed in frustration. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘on the down-low’? We just keep it private.”

“Emily,” he tried to infuse his tone with as much gravity as he could muster. “The policy exists for a reason. This will compromise _everything_ about our working relationship. There is absolutely nothing temporary or flippant about what I feel. It would be impossible to keep it secret for long. Not to mention that we work with people who are professional lie detectors. If we do this, they’ll know.”

“To hell if they know. It only matters what they can prove to HR,” she snapped. He was shocked for an instant before it sank in: she wanted it enough to buck regulations. He wanted to kiss her so hard in that moment it might have broken them both.

“You’d be prepared to lie about it, to our friends, indefinitely?” His thumb stroked her cheek and he felt her skin warm beneath his hand. “Think about it. Every tough case, every close call, every team dinner, every casual get together, holidays and birthday celebrations, every moment that we’re in a public setting because D.C. is a small town and everyone is always watching for gossip in it…”

He took a deep breath to steady himself because every word he was saying was another nail in their coffin. She’d see it soon enough.

“You could never tell anyone, not even non-work friends. We could never live together, never take mutual leave or travel together. There’d be no one to confide in when we needed advice, no shoulders to cry on or scheme with. We’d only really exist in a few hidden hours amongst a whole chaotic messy life. We’d be lying every minute of every day. And if one of us ever went down,” he swallowed hard, voice cracking. “We couldn’t show it, couldn’t let it break our façade… we couldn’t even grieve the way we should.”

“Jesus…” she whispered, the word ghosting across his skin and making him shiver. All the things he wanted were just a breath away, but he couldn’t have them.

“I’d go mad, Emily. I can’t… I’d go mad.” Against his better judgment, his lips moved and pressed the barest of kisses to her forehead. He’d waited for so long and had to take an indulgence that would see him through whatever happened after this.

She struggled in his grip, breaking the spell of his only kiss; she still had some fight in her.

“We could quit. Work for different agencies.”

He raised an eyebrow at her in the dark. That wasn’t a real choice. They both loved the work and they knew it, and they both loved doing the work together. She bridled under his silence, knowing exactly what he wasn’t saying. Then she whined in a way that went straight to his gut and clenched it painfully.

“Then just give us tonight.” She strained to meet his lips, fingers digging into his shirt and his skin beneath it. “One night.”

“Em,” he warned hoarsely, keeping his lips just out of her reach, only their breath caressing each other. “I couldn’t do that and let you go afterwards. And you _know_ that it would be impossible for me to forget it happened.”

“Spence,” her voice wavered and then she cleared it angrily. Yeah, he was right there with her on how crappy this felt. “This isn’t right. For years we didn’t know, and now that we do, we can’t _do anything_ about it? It’s insane!”

He sighed and stroked a thin, light line down her neck to circle around the base of her throat. “We don’t always get the satisfaction of the whole story, remember?”

She growled, vicious and coarse, and then punched him in the chest without much conviction. “Bullshit justification… we don’t even get to have a damned story to begin with.”

“Hey,” he pulled her back a little too roughly so that he could look at her. “We do so have a story and it’s a pretty great one. You’re my best friend and I’m yours and that’s nothing to dismiss lightly. I wish we could be more - you have no idea - but circumstances being what they are, best friends is a whole hell of a lot. Don’t give that up, Emily. Don’t give up on me.”

Prentiss shook like she had when thunder sounded and then her hands went lax in his shirt. Leaning forward gracelessly, she bumped her forehead into his shoulder and stayed there. She didn’t say a thing and all he could feel was her staggered breathing against his chest and a wet patch spreading into his t-shirt. Lightning crashed and the wind rattled the roof and she continued shaking in his arms. He tightened them around her and rocked her slowly.

“It’ll pass,” he murmured prophetically. “Everything seems more extreme at night.”

“That’s why it’s the best time to steal cars,” she mumbled into his shirt with a sniffle. 

“And why it’s also the best time to bet at all at poker,” he chuckled softly. “We can handle this, Emily. I’ve got you. And… maybe we won’t both work for the Bureau forever…”

She let him rock her for a while, shuddering through a few more explosive thunderclaps. In time his hands smoothed over her curves encouraging her to lie down and stretch out. She turned away from him and he tried not to let it slice him. Hesitantly, he scooted up behind her and slotted himself along her back but barely touching her. She shifted and then he felt her pulling his arm so that it fit in the crook of her neck between the mattress and the pillow under her head. She sighed and went still.

“Okay,” she whispered, finally defeated, and it broke him.

He pressed a little closer until their bodies radiated warmth back and forth, and allowed his other hand to rest at her hip. He sighed into the back of her neck, fluttering her half-dried hair, and then he dipped in and brushed her neck with a barely-there kiss.

“Okay,” he repeated, voice cracking noticeably over the word.


	2. Chapter 2

He dreamed of her laughter and his shirt rolled to her elbows and the night wind whipping her hair. 

When he woke it was still dark but he knew it was close to dawn. The wind had died down though the rain still hammered at the roof and windows; the storm was slowing. If they could get the engine to turn over, they could probably make it back to Quantico by the afternoon. They’d be safe and dry in their own beds tonight. Their own beds…

Prentiss shuffled in her sleep. While they slept their bodies had pulled together, curled up in protection of one another. His arm under her head had gone numb and he tried to quietly flex some feeling back into it without waking her. _Not yet. Just a little while longer._ He moved so that they only pressed together from shoulders to mid-torso; he didn’t want any early morning closeness to be mistaken for something else. It didn’t matter what his body wanted, he’d made up his mind. They were going to see this through. When they left this motel, they’d be what they were to each other when they’d arrived. Prentiss was the queen of compartmentalization and he’d lived with this knowledge for more years than he cared to think on. They could handle this. Everything would be fine.

He nuzzled his face closer on the pillow, just enough so that a strand of her hair brushed his cheek. He breathed in quietly and took in the hints of rain and bleach from the crappy sheets. He didn’t care - he’d held her close for a whole evening. It was more than he’d ever hoped he’d get. Maybe someday one of them would get bored of the BAU, or he’d get a private sector offer that he couldn’t turn down, or she’d decide to retire early and write a book like Rossi… it could happen. Maybe. They might make it that far, perhaps.

She shifted and then stretched, going still a moment later as he imagined she tried to figure out where she was. She rolled back and bumped into him. His hand rose up and gently cupped her hip to steady her.

“Hey,” he mumbled, feigning sleep. “The storm’s eased up.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “What time is it?”

“Probably close to dawn.”

They both fell silent and still just listening to the rain on the roof. She seemed tense under his hand but he told himself that there was no way he could know that for certain and he was probably just projecting. It was dark and close in the room as it had been all night. They wouldn’t be able to free themselves from anything that happened until they could get out, breathe different air and put a few miles under their wheels. Even so, he was hesitant to move, to make one step that would take them closer to leaving. Then he felt her arm drape casually over his hand on her hip, like something friendly and everyday-careless.

_Time’s up._

“Okay,” she mumbled and he felt the bed dip and sway as she moved and hopped over him.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“Really?”

“We don’t have a bucket,” she huffed. “I’m hoping that I’m braver than I think I am.”

“If you need an armed response, let me know.”

She snorted and disappeared. Reid rolled out of bed and began dressing and collecting his things. He crammed his feet into his sneakers and tried to ignore the unpleasant squeak of the half-dried soles. Prentiss returned quickly, walking up behind him and flopping his dress shirt over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” she murmured, standing too close to be considered friendly.

“Sure.” His heart seized as he grabbed the shirt and rolled it back into his go bag. He wondered if it would still smell like her when he finally unpacked back at his apartment. He wondered how long he’d hold out until he washed it.

They moved rapidly, not saying anything, until she finally looked around and then up at him. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

They hustled to the door, Prentiss first, but she stopped suddenly with her hand on the door handle, Reid nearly bumping into her. She half-turned to face him in the grim grey light coming from the windows.

“Spencer, are you sure about this?” It came out in a rush of breath and her face creased in distress for a second before she got it under control. “The moment we step outside, last night ends.”

He stood straight and squared his shoulders, infusing his words with a confidence he didn’t actually feel. But he did it for her. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She held his eyes for a moment longer trying to decide if he was being truthful or not, and then she nodded, turned the handle, and stepped out into the puddle-soaked parking lot. He followed her, locking up behind them, and marveling that in an entire evening of Truth or Dare, he’d only lied once.


	3. Chapter 3

Setting the motel evening aside and slipping back into friendship was easier than he’d anticipated, and perhaps he found that a little disappointing. But it was useless to regret getting what he’d wished for: a part of him had wanted her to know how he felt and now she did, and he also wanted them to ignore it for work and they’d managed that too. It should have been a vindication of the strength of their friendship, but it felt empty to him. 

Prentiss seemed fine - as steady and surefooted as she always was. They still hung out, still occasionally had dinner together, they still pranked each other ruthlessly, and bolstered each other through case after case. A few hypersensitive weeks melted into easy routine before he knew it, and that stretched out into months. The only change was that he felt she was more demonstrative with him - a hug on the jet after a case, sending signals in interrogations through light touches rather than verbal cues, maybe a little less distance between them when they circled one another… It was impossible for him to tell if it was real or all in his head, and he knew that. He just got lost in those moments and later berated himself for not having better control.

She was wounded during a case. It was minor but he had to battle himself for every inch of restraint when it happened. He’d ended up locked in the copy room of the PD they’d commandeered so that he could indulge in a terrible, clawing panic after he’d heard the news. It actually took his breath from him. When he’d pulled himself together and rejoined the team, it was the only time he felt thankful for his decision. They’d never even kissed and his reaction had been extreme - he could only imagine what his behavior would’ve been like if they’d been together. They’d been hurt on the job before but for some reason, now because _they both knew_ , it magnified his fear. He didn’t understand it at all. Taking the seat next to her on the jet ride home he’d allowed himself a quiet ‘are you okay?’ and she’d given him a soft, shadowed look before nodding and responding with the expected ‘yeah, I’m fine’. He’d wanted to hold her face, draw her to him with his touch, and tell her not to hide anything. But he didn’t and he hated himself for it. Maybe all of it would get easier with time.

Despite his feelings over the years, he’d never really believed they’d be together, and if they did, he didn’t have faith that it would last. He’d never had a lot of luck with people and deep down, he was a pragmatist. He thought they might burn brightly for a few weeks - maybe a couple of months if they were fortunate - but eventually their reality would fall victim to the elusive perfection of fantasy, and who knows if they’d recover their friendship after that. In the long run it was better this way, he told himself as he watched her at her desk and reminded himself to _stop thinking about it._

She considered buying a house - something too big for a single person, in his estimation - and it lit a traitorous flare of hope in him against his better judgment. It suggested permanency and commitment, and when she showed him the digital ‘walk through’ online he tried not to imagine them in it together someday: drinking coffee in the kitchen while reading case files in the mornings, or hosting team poker nights in the living room in front of its impressive fireplace, or dropping their go bags - side by side - in the master bedroom after returning from an exhaustive case. But then she suddenly abandoned her plan, citing a structural flaw, and didn’t resume looking at properties. He wondered if she’d caught herself in a fantasy too and then shoved it aside when she realized what she was doing. Maybe she thought, as he did, that it wasn’t a future with any real staying power. That inference more than anything cemented his determination, though it made him ache like he was being dissolved from the inside out.

So, they went on, and aside from a few questionable moments, it was like nothing had happened. They’d done it, overcome themselves and moved on. Crisis averted. 

When they caught a serial bank robbery case months later, he’d almost settled back into the Prentiss/Reid dynamic that he’d grown accustomed to in years past. He didn’t bat an eyelash when Prentiss took the lead on the case, and his pulse barely fluttered when they finally cornered the UnSubs on a job and she offered herself in exchange for the release of the bank patrons. He stood next to Hotch in the surveillance van at the scene’s perimeter and focused every conscious inch of himself on the audio crackling through over Prentiss’s body mic. He worked the syntax, the tones, the word choices… he _worked_ , he didn’t _think._ But when one of the robbers mentioned explosives, his mind ground to a halt. Prentiss’s tone changed and both Hotch and Reid instantly knew what it meant. Reid breathed the word ‘no’ before he could stop himself. Hotch was quicker though, giving SWAT the go signal in the same moment. A moment just before the detonation rocked the surveillance van and a flurry of orders sounded over the FBI comm. channels. 

He was out of the van and moving then. There was a hole in the side of the bank, marble, concrete and rebar punched outward to the street as agents in body armor swarmed the entry like ants. He waited what seemed like an eternity until the all-clear sounded and he followed a group of SWAT guys into the building. He wasn’t a bomb tech or a negotiator or a heavy arms specialist - he had to do things the right way. He was just a profiler who was concerned for his partner and who was secretly bargaining with the universe to keep his love alive. At that moment, he knew that it would never get any easier for him no matter what he tried; he’d become someone else, cutting deals with God in his head. _Let her live and I’ll carry this pain silently and without complaint, I swear…_

He found her on the far side of the bank, sheltered by the marble walls and customer island, but showered in plaster dust and safety glass and assorted singed paperwork. He skidded to a stop on the smooth floor and dropped to his knees, one arm reaching out to grab her shoulder.

“Hey, there you are. You okay?”

He tried to keep his tone lightly concerned. She wasn’t bleeding or obviously hurt but she looked at him for longer than he thought she should and he started to run through concussion protocols. Then she nodded, dust rising around her head in a halo.

“I’m fine. Did we get them all?”

“Yeah, I think so. SWAT is still mopping up.”

She used his arm to drag herself to her feet and for a moment everything was all right. Then her legs gave out and he caught her with a huff, gently setting her back down on the floor again, his heart trying to pound its way to freedom through his throat.

“Ooookaaaay, maybe we oughta wait for the EMTs, huh?”

“I’m fine,” she said again weakly.

Her face was blank for an instant and then without warning her expression collapsed. Fat tears sprung up and rolled down her dusty cheeks so quickly he felt like he was moving at half speed in comparison. He pulled her into his chest, terrified, and her hands clutched at him as she muffled herself in his vest. He wrapped himself around her, not caring what anyone saw when they found them, and tried to even his voice as he spoke into hair.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

She shook her head against him and he wasn’t sure if she was telling him ‘I don’t know’ or that she couldn’t speak. He closed his eyes, ground his teeth, and cursed the god he’d just pleaded with moments earlier.

“Listen, I’ve got you, Emily. You’re right here, I’m right here, and we’re all good.” He stroked her back in long, slow sweeps. “You were great today - the best of us. You just need to bleed off some of this crazy tension and have a good, stiff drink. Or six.”

She hiccupped against him and he took it as a good sign when her shoulders eased and she sagged more than clung to him. He held her a little longer in silence before he pulled back to look her in the eye. She tried to avoid his gaze but he’d take that over the blank, automaton stare. He gave himself permission to reach up and thumb away the tears on one cheek, which just made a messy, dusty smudge instead.

“This was nothing,” he whispered, like they were sharing secrets again. “Wasn’t anything like a water tower in a thunderstorm, was it? You’ve got this completely in hand.”

She stared at him in wonder but he just smiled at her, and tried to put his whole faith in her behind it. She grabbed the strap of his Kevlar and tugged him a little.

“Spencer…” she mumbled almost inaudibly back. 

He held his breath, hearing her call him by his first name again, and waited for more. But nothing came. She continued staring as if she were having a conversation with herself and seeing it played out across his face. He couldn’t stand that - he wanted to be a part of it. So instead of watching her, he dipped in and broke his promise, gently kissing her forehead. She breathed in deeply as he did it but otherwise didn’t react. He pulled away and stroked her back again when he saw Morgan jogging up, his face creased with worry.

“What’s up?”

Her grip tightened on Reid’s vest.

“Nothing,” Reid shrugged and then stood, slowly balancing her as she followed him. “She’s lightheaded… probably has tinnitus as well. We’re just gonna walk it off a little, I think.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Derek,” she croaked as she scrubbed her face. She even gave him a convincing smile. “But, Christ, it’s been a helluva day…”

“You won’t get any argument from me about that. You’re sure you’re okay? You look a little worse for wear, P.”

“Your charisma has no end,” she said dryly as she tried, and failed, to smooth her dusty hair. “I’m cool, don’t worry.”

“We’ll swing past the paramedics on our stroll,” Reid gave Morgan a look that said he was concerned but not overly alarmed, and somehow that seemed to calm Morgan more than continued declarations of ‘I’m fine’ possibly could.

“Okay, Pretty Boy. I trust you to take care of our girl here. Hotch and I have to start organizing evidence collection and the tech teams, and the ATF finally showed up and are screaming about jurisdiction and protocol. There’s a lot of angry, well-armed suits onsite at the moment. Still plenty of work to do… I just wanted to check in.”

“Go, Morgan, go,” Prentiss waved him off, getting a little irritated. “I’ll be-”

“Just fine,” Reid and Morgan said back to her in unison with equally unimpressed looks on their faces. She punched them both, one after the other. Reid yelped, Morgan grinned.

“Yer okay. Get outta here.”

He waved and then loped away to start organizing the scene. When he’d disappeared, Reid pulled Prentiss into his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. From a distance it would look like a couple of good friends supporting each other after a close shave. He leaned in and looked her in the eye.

“Would you like to say it again, just for the record?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, appearing put upon as he pushed them towards the bank’s entrance.

“Seventh time’s a charm.” He smiled angelically. 

“You’re incredibly annoying when you think you’re right,” she grumbled without much heat.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a genius - I’m always right.” He was feeling a sort of delirious relief that she seemed to have settled back into her orbit again. “And even in the highly unlikely, yet still mathematically possible, event that I’m wrong, we’re friends so you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt because I care about you.”

“I do. Care about you, I mean,” she whispered as they walked past a bunch of SWAT guys. “I really do.”

He looked at her carefully unsure of what he expected to see, but her expression of grim determination wasn’t it. It felt like something immovable sinking into place. That look, her silent conversation moments before, and her sudden breakdown left him uneasy. She seemed to have just settled something in her own mind. She was about to make a move but she wasn’t telegraphing anything, not even to him.

“I know you do, Em.” 

He wished he knew the combination of words that would unlock her mind to him. He wanted to tell her that whatever she was planning, she didn’t have to do it alone. No matter what she needed, he’d be there for her. He didn’t want to bargain anymore - this was who he’d become and he couldn’t go back. He didn’t want to be on the outside like he had been with the Doyle case, and he thought after everything they’d been through since then she understood that. But he chickened out and fell back on banter instead.

“It’s obvious in the way you punch me: you hit because you care, right?”

“You got it.” Her smirk erased her seriousness in an instant. Now he’d never know what she was thinking; an opportunity wasted. “So what do you say we go and get started on a few of those recovery drinks, huh?”

“EMTs first, to make sure that all of your marbles are still in place.” He made a wiggly gesture at her head while steering her towards an ambulance outside the bank. “Then we can mess up those marbles with alcohol.”

“I feel the urge to hit you again,” she grumbled.

“Restrain yourself,” he said with a touch of bitterness that he couldn’t seem to hide. “I’m not sure I can handle anymore displays of your affection right now.”


	4. Chapter 4

When the knock sounded on his apartment door late on a Thursday evening it scared the hell out of him. Part of his building’s allure was its privacy - everyone kept to themselves, which he appreciated. And there were two locks between the front entry and him, three if you counted the lock on his front door. So hearing someone outside on his stoop without getting a head’s up from the foyer callbox set him on edge. He dropped his book, rose from the couch and padded quietly to the door. He stood next to the jamb set into the wall and avoided the peephole (a hitman in Seattle used to pretend he was a confused pizza delivery guy and wait for his marks to peer through the peephole before shooting them through the door - the MO stuck with Reid in an annoying, OCD-kinda way).

“Yes?” he called out.

“Reid, it’s me.” Her muffled voice came through the door. Now, he was anxious for other reasons. She rarely came by this late and certainly never without calling ahead. He quickly unlocked the door and fixed a surprised but friendly grin to his face.

“Hello. This is a bit unexpected…”

She shuffled in, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. She was extremely casual: sneakers, t-shirt and denim under a worn leather jacket, hair tied back and make-up free for once. She gave him a smile as he invited her in but he noticed that it fell away almost immediately. His nervousness became stones that his thoughts crashed over like waves breaking ashore.

“Yeah, sorry it’s so late,” she said. “I thought about waiting ‘til tomorrow but the more I considered it, the more I got wound up, so…”

“S’okay, I wasn’t doing much,” he said cautiously, moving to the couch and gesturing for her to sit. She thought about it and then shook her head, pacing a little along the length of his coffee table instead. “What’s going on, Prentiss?”

He hated her pacing, and the stressed expression on her face, and he hated calling her ‘Prentiss’. He wanted to still her with his hands, draw her in, tell her to take a deep breath and just let it all out to him because they _knew_ each other and he’d do anything to make things better if he were able. He didn’t like the anxiety, tension, or her hesitancy - it all seemed foreboding to him.

“I…,” she started and then stopped, forcing herself to be still and to stand tall. When she began again, she looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted to tell you first: Clyde Easter offered me the Section Chief position at Interpol’s London office.”

His mouth went dry. This should’ve been good news - being professionally wanted was great and if one of them took a different job perhaps there was hope for them personally. But the job was thirty-five hundred miles away on another continent, and the way her lips went thin and white when she said it made him feel that she wasn’t telling him everything.

“Wow,” he said quietly. “Uh, what did you tell him?”

She stared at him hard, not giving anything away. “I told him that I needed time to consider it, and he agreed.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know what he was supposed to do here, what she wanted from him. He fell back on the backbone of their friendship. “So… what’s the thinking here? What are you wound up about?”

She just continued staring, as if he’d asked her something in a language she didn’t understand, and then she physically snapped herself out of it, clearing her throat and resumed her pacing.

“Well, on the one hand, it’s management, political… I’d rarely get into the field again and it might require more manners and patience than I’m capable of.”

He smirked at that. She was her mother’s daughter but she didn’t have a lot of faith in that. He knew that she liked the action but she’d probably be great at being a leader if she just gave it a chance.

“On the other hand,” she got quiet. “It might save me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t… well, I’m not really sure how to explain it. It’s a feeling that’s been creeping up on me. It’s been pretty much happening since we took Doyle down.”

That was over a year ago. Something had been happening to her, making her uneasy, and she’d kept it to herself _for over a year?_ He felt like she’d just hit him without any warning.

“What feeling?”

She glanced at him, the thin lines around her eyes creasing as a look of sadness overtook her. “I’m… exhausted. I guess that’s the most succinct word for it. I feel like all of my reserves are gone, my nerves are shot. All of those instances where I shouldn’t have made it out and did, every close call that used to invigorate me and push me forward, all of the risks and the highs, the battle scars and the ‘what ifs’… they’re just _gone_ from me now.” She shook her head slowly and curled into herself, as if admitting to a crime. “I get the shakes now, Spencer. I get ‘em bad, and I’m not sleeping well… Whatever fearless streak I had in me, I broke it somehow. I can’t do it anymore.”

He swallowed hard, his arms and legs tingling like he was about to lose circulation. “Is… is that what happened at the bank? The tears?”

She nodded as her mouth turned down trying to keep a measure of control over this confession. “It just hit me… like a delayed reaction. I was so scared that I couldn’t think or react or breathe. I just faded away, paralyzed by it when, in the past, I used to charge right up into its face. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t come back until I felt you, heard your voice. You told me I could handle it and I suddenly remembered that I _could_ handle it, I already _had_. But… honestly… it’s just a matter of time until that hesitation comes at the wrong moment.”

He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it of her. Not his Prentiss, the brave, crazy, lonely kid, the car thief, the strongest woman he’d ever met… And he tried not to see the signs of it happening, in hindsight. He tried not to feel insulted that she’d done her best to hide it from him.

“Emily… why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t want to give into it. I’ve been weak before, but I’ve always come back from it.”

“It’s not weak to-”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she steamrolled over him. “Past my prime, compromised, all dented armor and rusted chinks.”

Something fierce and angry flashed through him at her words. It was one thing to keep him out of the loop, but this justification for it? He wasn’t going to let her use him as an excuse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Emily. Mid-career doubts or PTSD or… _whatever_ this is doesn’t make you any of those things, and certainly not in my eyes. We’ve avoided a lot about ourselves over the years but don’t be disingenuous enough to suggest that I’ve put you on some sort of idealized pedestal. I see you, Em… every day I see you for who you are.”

_And I’ll never get enough, dents and all. I know that we agreed not to talk about it, but… you should’ve come to me when you were hurting._

She looked away from him and he saw her face flush and then, as if she couldn’t bear it, she turned away entirely. She stared at the books on the shelves lining his walls, hands on her hips, trying to shore up her walls or figure her next move - he couldn’t tell. After a long while she leaned her head back, hair sliding over the worn leather - black on black - and sighed loudly.

“The point is that my field op days are over. I need to get out before something bad happens and someone gets hurt because of me. I’d finally wrapped my head around the idea, and then Clyde called with his offer. It feels like the universe is trying to tell me something.”

“Coincidence does not imply consequence,” he snipped, because now he was starting to see her plan unfold before him, and it didn’t have room for him at all. “There’s no grand scheme to life, no sisters of Fate weaving our lives in and out for a higher purpose…”

“God is only a manmade dare, right?” She turned back to him with a sad smile curling her lips. “To be better than we think we can be?”

“Don’t use me against myself. It’s not fair,” he pouted and tried not to recall that he’d begged that manmade dare for mercy only a few weeks earlier. “It feels like you’ve made up your mind. If that’s true then I don’t understand the problem.”

“I want you to tell me that I’m making the right choice.”

Well, that was just monumentally undeserved. Considering that she knew things about him that they were both choosing to ignore, and that up until five minutes ago he wasn’t even aware of her problem, it wasn’t right that she now foisted the responsibility for this decision back onto him. Telling her to stay was selfish and clearly not in her best interests, but rubber stamping her choice to leave meant the end of them, an end to a partnership they’d built together. He’d always tried to honor their friendship over the years but this would push that impulse right up against its hard limits. 

He sighed and ran his fingers angrily through his hair, but when the words came out they were measured and calm. “There are no perfect choices. There’s only an option that provides a greater probability of success than the others, and it’s all based on imperfect information anyway. When it comes right down to it, the dilemma of choice becomes giving up something you want for something else that you want more.”

He caught her stare and held it until it got uncomfortable.

“Based on what you’ve told me here tonight, I think you should accept Easter’s offer.”

She blinked rapidly and didn’t seem able to hide her shock. She rested her hands on her hips in an aggressive posture, and then thought better of it, letting them drop to her sides where they seemed to hang uselessly.

“You’d let me go to England?” she asked quietly.

Now it was his turn to be at a loss. “Why would you need my permission?”

“I don’t!” Her voice rang out in his apartment and her hands returned to her hips as anger colored her cheeks. “I just thought… I thought…”

“You thought that I’d allow my personal bias to cloud my judgment. You came over here, to my personal space, and sprung this on me in order to elicit a knee-jerk response that would make you feel better about yourself and bolster the idea that you are not professionally compromised, even though you are worried about _exactly_ that. If you don’t want to take the job, then don’t, Prentiss, but you can’t hang the responsibility of that decision on me. And you’ll still have to deal with whatever is going on in your head with work.”

She was glaring at him now. He held his ground, made his expression stony, but it was killing him moment by moment.

“I didn’t come here to blatantly manipulate you like that. How could you think that of me?” she growled.

“Well, then why did you ask me to ratify your decision? You just told me that you don’t need my permission. And since you didn’t bother to confide in me about your fears over the past year, why ask what I think of the Interpol job?”

The bitterness leaked out again - he couldn’t help it. This whole situation had suddenly become agonizing for him.

“I came over here tonight because I’m in love with you, Spencer, and if I leave, I probably won’t be coming back!” She yelled and it echoed off his walls and books and furniture. It rang off his spine and his guts, and made his knees think about betraying him. Her statement hovered in the air over them but neither of them moved. When she spoke again, her voice was much quieter, as if she’d embarrassed herself or tipped her hand. “I thought you had a stake in this… that’s why I asked.”

Fuck. Fuckitty-fuck-fuck. Now it was excruciating.

“My answer would be the same regardless of whatever stake I may or may not have.”

“Are you saying that you’ve got nothing riding on this decision?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m saying that as your friend I have to encourage you to do what’s best for you. This isn’t about me at all.”

“Not about you?” She looked like he’d just started speaking in tongues.

“We agreed to ignore what we discovered that night during the hurricane,” he sighed. “I’ve been doing that. It’s not fair that you suddenly reverse course and expect me to follow your lead.”

“I didn’t reverse course! _You_ decided that we couldn’t be together.”

“And we still can’t, but for different reasons. This decision _cannot_ be emotional, Prentiss. Do what’s right for you. If you ask me, that sounds like London.”

He was desperately trying to distance himself, trying to give them the best chance to make a good choice, but he just wanted to beg her to stay. For six years they’d been held up, let down, and thrown in the path of things that they couldn’t avoid. After all of that, this wasn’t fair… it just wasn’t fair at all.

“I can’t… I can’t believe you,” she mumbled, her face getting blotchy from whatever she was holding back. “I think my eyes have been opened, and maybe the timing is fortuitous. You really are a fucking jerk, Reid.”

He flinched but didn’t say anything. She watched him a moment longer, maybe hoping for something, but then gave up. 

“You just made this decision a whole lot easier,” she said.

She shrugged and then let her hands fall in exasperation, making a loud slapping noise when they hit her sides. Tossing him a dismissive look that she usually reserved for people she’d just put in cuffs and would never see again, she headed for the door.

“Sorry I disturbed you.”

In no time at all she was through the door and slamming it hard enough that the pictures on his walls fluttered. He stared at the closed door for a full minute, not moving, trying to control the burst of panic that exploded in his chest at her farewell, and the nausea slowly creeping up his throat. Then he sunk back down onto his sofa for a lack of anything better to do, hands holding his head while his world spun a little. His breathing got choppy and wet, and when the shaking started he wondered how far the meltdown would go before he gave in and curled up into a ball to make it stop.

She was leaving and he wasn’t going to stop her. She was leaving even though she loved him. _She loved him…_ And that’s when it hit him: he’d never told her that he loved her back.


	5. Chapter 5

It took him two days to figure out what to say, and then nearly three hours to work up the courage to go and decide what to wear, which was just stupid, really. Things weren’t going to change because of this; they’d just get clarified a little. He didn’t want her to leave without all of the facts. He was going to end this the right way so that he could live with it afterwards. He chose the charcoal grey suit and the deep purple vest that he saved for when he testified. She’d always liked that combination on him and he figured it couldn’t hurt to curry a little unconscious bias in his favor.

His hand trembled as he went to knock on her door and he shook it viciously, trying to bleed off his anxiety. She answered the door quickly, dressed very much as she had been the other night. Her expression hardened when she saw him (so much for the suit), but she moved aside anyway, wordlessly inviting him inside. He walked into her living room and saw the half-filled boxes strewn about with newspaper and packing wrap in a pile on her sofa. His chest constricted and he took a breath and held it until the feeling passed; he hadn’t expected her to set the wheels in motion so quickly after settling on her decision. He wondered if she’d already gone to Hotch with it. His boss hadn’t said anything to the team yet…

“What’s up?” Her tone was all business as she brushed past him and went back to wrapping up some knick knacks from her coffee table.

There was a wall of windows beyond her that looked out over the D.C. skyline. His feet unconsciously took him there and he lost himself for a moment in the movement of traffic below and birds flying through the brilliant Saturday afternoon sky. He discovered he was holding his breath again and forced himself to let it go, fogging the window and blurring the view. That’s when he noticed his reflection and the strained devastation painted across his face. He shored himself up quickly. Perhaps she hadn’t seen it.

“How have I never noticed the view you have from this place?” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“You’ve only ever been here at night,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Really? That can’t be right…”

He heard her sigh and crinkle newspaper behind him. “Why are you here, Reid? What do you want?”

Time to get on with it. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk and she might not even be in the frame of mind to hear him clearly. He turned back from the window to face her and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Listen, ummm, about what I said in my apartment-”

“Let’s not get into that again,” she interrupted. “Maybe neither one of us showed the best side of ourselves on Thursday evening, but at least we were truthful. I’m not interested in hearing some sort of varnished version of it now.”

“Well, that’s the thing, see…” he stepped forward. “You caught me off guard - with a lot of stuff - and I didn’t say everything I should.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“No, it isn’t, Emily.” His tone got serious because he didn’t want her to brush him off. He was there for _him_ as much as he was for her, and she owed him a fair hearing. “You asked me what I thought and my answer hasn’t changed, and I’m not here to talk you out of leaving.”

“Then why are you here? What more is there to say if you haven’t changed your mind?”

“Just let me get this out, will you?” he snapped and then stormed across her living room to get his anger under control again.

She watched him cautiously, abandoning her packing to give him her full attention. “Okay.”

“Listen, hearing about the Interpol offer was alarming enough,” he huffed and raised his hands in deference to her worried body language. “But the thing that really got under my skin was learning that you’ve been struggling since the Doyle case. You needed help and you didn’t come to me. And I also failed to notice. I just… _failed_ you, Emily. That was tough to hear.”

“But Spence-”

“I know what you said: you were worried about how it would change my perception of you. But if you fully grasped how I regard you, you wouldn’t have been concerned about that at all. That’s another way that I’ve let you down. I’ve worked so hard to be a friend and a professional over the years that perhaps I’ve hidden too much from you.”

He dropped his hands and sagged. “You have a problem and it needs to be addressed, and you’ve made a bold choice to do that, a _tough_ choice. I admire that and I won’t talk you out of it. I want you to be well, Em… I want you to be safe and well more than anything else and if the London job is the way to ensure that then I’m all for it.”

She was staring at him, sort of stunned. He paused and then gave her a sad smile. 

“But don’t think that it’ll be easy to let you go. I know that you’re not coming back - I _know_ that - so, you need to understand that I’m letting you go because I have to. Because if I asked you to stay I might destroy the thing I love and I couldn’t live with that. You’ve been the breath of my life for over six years - I’d rather see you leave than snuff that out so I could be near you.”

She just kept staring at him without any reaction. It was a little disconcerting, so he dropped his gaze and tried to push through the rest.

“I know we agreed to ignore a lot between us, and we’ve probably only been partially successful with that. Just… know that it meant the world to hear that you love me. I should’ve said so in the moment instead of being angry at your timing. You’re not alone in it, Emily, even if this is the end of our story. What I feel will go with you wherever you are, I promise.” He shrugged and shuffled his feet. “I had to tell you that before you left so you wouldn’t leave thinking that I was a complete jerk. Just a partial one.”

He lifted his eyes to her and tried to smile, but she wasn’t smiling back. She still looked emotionless and stunned, and honestly, he’d hoped for _a little_ something back at his words. After a moment she blinked and then roughly cleared her throat.

“I’m not leaving,” she said.

His eyes flicked to the boxes and the half empty shelves and tried to catch up with the lapse between what he was seeing and what she was saying. There was a long moment of silence before she finally pulled it together and stepped around her packing box towards him.

“I mean, I _was_ going up until about five minutes ago. But I’m not now.”

“You’re not?” 

He was next to a wall and reached out to it as his knees threatened to betray him. The cool of the plaster under his palm was soothing as he attempted to figure out what the hell was going on now.

“I don’t understand. This doesn’t solve the problem,” he whispered, and then she took several quick strides until she was right in front of him clasping his free hand tightly in hers. 

“It solves one of my problems,” she murmured before she leaned in for a soft kiss that nevertheless nearly floored him. 

He was motionless for an instant under the brush of her lips, her breath firing something inside that he’d done his best to tamp down for years. Then he reached out instinctively, selfishly, collecting her against him and temporarily spiraling back to that evening in the motel when he’d wanted nothing but her. He’d been so tempted by her ‘one night only’ offer that he’d barely been able to say no. The thought of having nothing between them, being tangled and curled together, urgently straining to meet each other had almost undone him. But he hadn’t been prepared to sacrifice their future. Now, his control was too eroded to fight anymore. He kissed her harder than he intended, rough and hungry like she made him feel in his lesser moments, and they thudded back into the wall together as his legs finally gave up being brave. One of his hands splayed out against the wall in a desperate attempt to keep them vertical as his other arm cinched her close enough to make her gasp against him. He didn’t care, swallowing the sound as he continued to take advantage of the moment. She pushed him firmly into the wall and he heard the soft knock of her hand landing on the plaster as well to anchor them. _Thank God_ , he thought, otherwise they’d have been in a heap by now… 

“What have we solved exactly?” he gasped, his voice rising as he struggled to get a little control back.

“Us,” she chuckled softly against his throat, which made him groan. “ _Finally._ I thought for sure that this moment would only exist in my head…”

“What about the Bureau? Your hesitancy in the field?” Talking about real issues started to clear his thoughts, bring him back to himself again.

“Yeah, I haven’t figured out those ones yet,” she kissed him under his jaw. “But since I’m probably done at the BAU, why should I continue to deny myself this?”

He pushed her back to look her in the eye. “You haven’t quit yet?”

“No,” she sighed. “But I will. I’ve got a new reason now, but the decision’s the same.”

“I’m sorry, Emily,” he whispered, feeling grief because he was still going to lose a part of her - the part who sat across from him every day.

“Don’t be,” she offered him a lopsided smile. “Perhaps this was some sort of self-preservation kick in the pants. We can’t all be like Hotch and Rossi - working in the field until retirement…”

“But the work-” he started.

“Isn’t everything.” She skimmed the edge of his mouth with a fingertip. “Maybe it’s time for a different kind of partnership.” 

He let out a long sigh and pulled her against him again. “Woman, you are tangled mess of confusing impulses.” 

“Quit thinking for a sec and kiss me, you jerk,” she grinned. “Admit it - you enjoy my chaos.”

“God, yes.” He kissed her until they both needed to come up for air. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll survive the rockslide of emotional bedlam you’ve unleashed on me…”

“Are you invoking the name of a higher power now?”

“Figure of speech.” He dipped into her, slipping between her lips with a soft tug. “And I doubt an omnipotent deity could save me from you anyway. The danger isn’t you; it’s what you’ve built inside me. Like how Penelope turned me into a hugger.”

“Spencer…” she whined as she drew him in deeper than before. Her hands thread into his hair, leaving them slightly unbalanced against the wall without her support. “I thought we’d never get here. I thought, even after everything you said, that you didn’t really want it.”

“Why would you think that?” he pulled back, hurt by her words.

“Because we’ve been friends for so long. Sometimes those boundaries get blurred and confused, but it doesn’t always translate to romantic love. I mean, this is the first time we’ve kissed, for chrissakes…” She ducked her gaze away as color flamed her face. “And there was the boyfriend thing. Maybe you cared for me but you didn’t desire me…”

“I told you-”

“I know, and I heard you, but it’s hard to control your insecurities.”

He blinked and then decided that he had to nip this in the bud. “Emily, may I be crude for a moment?”

Her blush deepened as she nodded. He pulled her painfully close, his hand pressing the small of her back until their hips met and her pupils dilated at the connection. He shifted slightly so there was no mistaking his intentions.

“I like dick, it’s true. But I like pussy also.” His face heated; he hated the terminology so much. “In purely biological terms, I don’t prefer one over the other. On _personal_ criteria however…”

Ducking his head low, he skimmed the line of her throat with his lips. She arched against him as he did it, breasts and hips digging into him hard enough to make a new wave of want pulse through him. And she thought he wasn’t interested… He bit her just below the jaw for her foolishness and then swirled away the sting with his tongue. She shivered in his grip and he felt like a conqueror.

“I’ve never felt such persistent longing for anyone but you. It’s like a bone-deep ache, Emily… for _years._ I’d be embarrassed to tell you about the dreams I’ve had, the times I’ve lost any semblance of concentration because of you, the suspiciously long showers…”

She laughed darkly and he wanted to slide down the wall and take her right there if she’d only make that sound again. 

“In my weaker moments I indulge in the fantasy that we made love that night during the storm.” He said it against her mouth before punctuating it with a blistering kiss. “I imagined spending those hours in the dark searching your body, hunting down every clue it would offer up to me. I saw myself sinking into you, again and again, desperate to hear you, to taste you, to feel you wrapped around me close enough to stop my heart…”

“Spencer…” she moaned, and then suddenly twisted a leg through his until they switched places, her back slamming into the plaster as he pressed against her. His bad knee pinged in warning.

“And you’d stop it dead, I know you would,” he continued, losing himself in the softness of her skin as his hands crept up under her t-shirt. “The moment you came around me… maybe you’d say my name in a way you never have before… that’d be enough to do it, I think.”

“Jesus!” 

She grappled with his suit jacket until she pushed it over his shoulders and he got the idea, dropped his arms, and shimmied out of it. His tie was next, her fingers working at a frightening speed to unknot and slide it free with a satisfying hiss. His hands moved back to cup and stroke her, the t-shirt bunching and stretching as he roamed. She gasped against his mouth, eyes flicking to his as his thumb caressed her through her bra before she circled her arms around his neck and kissed him like she meant it to kill. He bent her hard in retaliation, hips forward, head back, her spine arching crazily under his hand. His other hand scrabbled at the wall as they fought gravity again. He hadn’t really thought this through, but considering their current state, he thought about suggesting they find a less vertically challenging location.

“I want you to undo me, Emily. I crave it so much that I almost gave in that night, but I didn’t because being with you isn’t enough. I want it all, everything, the whole package, and that desire sets you apart from anyone else I’ve met. Do you understand?”

He was breathing hard, body too warm for comfort, and his mind lazy with lust but he had to make this clear from the outset: this wasn’t about mixed signals or a temporary need. He wanted _her._

“Wow,” she breathed. “Who would’ve thought you’d be so good at dirty talk?”

He looked confused. “This is dirty talk?”

She shrugged in his arms, tightening her grip and closing back in on his mouth. “Whatever gets your motor running is dirty talk, Spence.”

“And your motor is running…” He squeezed his eyes shut as one of her hands tried to get beneath his vest. Her fingers were wiggling in a way that set his imagination loose again.

“It’s purring,” she whispered against his cheek. “But I want you to understand that I also get what you’re saying.”

“Do you?” He pulled back to gage her expression.

“Yes,” she said, getting quiet and serious. “You say it’s more than just attraction and that’s a lot to risk. I understand why you couldn’t let it be about one night, and now I get why you think my insecurity was ridiculous. It’s not about one moment, or a category or a type. It’s about-”

“You,” he said.

“It’s about _us_ ,” she corrected and he smiled sheepishly. One of her hands floated up until her fingers traced the side of his face drawing his eyes back to her. “I’m too jaded to be much of a romantic anymore, but I’ve gotta say that’s done a real number on me, Spence.”

“Yeah?” he smiled brilliantly wondering how they’d managed to stumble into this moment and made it all work.

“Yeah,” she smiled back and then kissed him softly, stretching it out for ages. “And the dirty talk is an unexpected bonus. I’ll have to work on mine so I can repay you in kind.”

“If you do that, I might spontaneously combust.” He leaned his forehead against hers. He was only half joking. 

“Well, maybe it’s a start to suggest that I’m open to certain negotiations. Like who penetrates whom, for example.” She winked at him while he waited for his heart to restart.

“You’d… y-you’d be willing to try that?”

“You’re not the only one with curiosity, Doctor.”

Inside his head he released a string of thankful profanity involving deities he didn’t believe in. A friend indeed, he thought, but a friend with kinks is better.

“What do we do now?” he gulped, trying to reel in a sudden explosion of fantasy sequences.

“That’s quite a question. But in the short term, I think we need to take each other to bed immediately.”

He groaned. “Em, I’ve gotta warn you… after nearly six years, this could be either the most intense or the briefest assignation in all of human history, depending on how much control I can wrangle together. And you’ve just obliterated a considerable amount of it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she breathed. “I’ll give you a mulligan if it all goes to hell, okay? You’ve earned one after all this time.”

“Mulligan,” he mumbled as he worked his way down her throat again and pulled her collar wide to nip at her shoulder. “That’s something to do with sports, right?”

She laughed and then it turned into a strangled gasp when he squeezed her through her shirt. His lips were traveling again, moving lower.

“I-it’s like… a do-over,” she wheezed. He squeezed her again and her eyes rolled shut as she leaned her head back, knocking it soundly against the wall. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Oh, that’s very generous of you,” he said sincerely. He’d probably have to use it too because his body felt superheated and volatile under his too-perfectly tailored skinny suit. He tried to pull back, suddenly clawing at his collar button and then his vest, but her hands held him close. 

“Too tight… need to get out,” he muttered.

She was breathing hard against him as she watched him paw at his clothes for another moment, then her hands flashed down his chest and opened the vest.

“Here…”

He took her mouth hungrily as he dropped his shoulders and let her push the vest over them and to the floor. Then her hands went to his shirt as his gripped her denim-clad waist and pulled her into him by her seams. She crashed against his arousal and he moaned almost painfully into her mouth, and then she changed course, her hands abandoning his shirt and scrabbling at his belt instead. He pulled back from her mouth, gasping into her neck with the effort to remain controlled. Her hips were bumping into him rhythmically now and she was whimpering a little and his blood felt like it was roaring in him and his pants were still too damned tight… He squeezed his eyes shut and had a terrible moment where it all felt like it was getting away from him. It was too fast, too urgent… they were still pressed against the wall in her living room, for God’s sake…

“Em, where’s the bedroom?” he asked desperately.

“We’re not gonna make it that far.” Her voice was low and smoky in his ear. It made him moan as his cock throbbed dangerously.

“Need to. Please…”

“Okay, hold on.”

She stopped fighting his pants and used her strength to push them both away from the wall. Then her hands went to his hips and pivoted him hard without warning presumably trying to direct him to the bedroom. He was still holding her close and the movement set them off balance. As he tried to regain it, his bad knee flared and then cut out on him sending him to the floor with a crash and her against the wall. He landed on his knees and hissed loudly as the cracking sound they made reverberated up his body until he could feel it in his molars.

“Oh, Spence! Your knee… I’m sorry…” She was still standing, peering down at him with a look of shock on her flushed face.

“S’okay, it happens more often than you’d guess.”

His knee buzzed and he knew from experience that he’d have to give it a minute to recover before he could put weight on it again. Also, the pain wasn’t entirely unwelcome as it had taken the edge off his arousal. He reached out for the wall to steady himself when he realized he was eye level with her hips. And just like that, he got an idea.

“Well, since I’m here…”

“What?”

He popped the buttons on her fly before she could comment and then peeled it open so that he could lean in and leave a soft kiss on the exposed skin below her navel. His index finger skimmed her panty line peeking through her fly. He went in for another wet kiss, this time finishing it with a little nip and a swirl of his tongue. Above him he heard her moan ‘ohhhh’ quietly and it made him chuckle against her taut belly. Her hands found their way back into his hair, massaging lightly, and he took it as permission to continue. He kissed her again, making it sound wet and showy, and moved slowly downward. His hands slid around her waist to the divot at the small of her back and circled there with equal slowness. She arched under his touch, accentuating the dip there that led invitingly to her ass. _God, she has a great ass,_ he thought and wished that he was the kind of guy who could say that and get away with it, because she really ought to know. It was lovely. Instead he slipped his fingers beneath her jeans and gripped her firmly, then released her and moved lower sinking his fingertips into her again. He let his hands do the talking. _You. Are. Lovely._

She squirmed in his hands and under his lips but he was losing himself in the feel of her and didn’t pay it too much attention. His lips finally made it to the lace edge of her panties and his tongue flicked out and found its way between the hem and her skin. She mumbled something then that he didn’t catch and he pulled her hips closer to his open mouth with the grip he had on her. The tops of her jeans had rolled down as his hands roamed but they were too tight to work themselves past the widest point on her hips. They dug into his wrists as he tried to wrestle them lower but then he decided that this was no time for subtlety.

“Need a little help here,” he husked as he looked up at her. She seemed a bit lost, her expression soft and far away but still with an edge of concentration. Her mouth opened as she breathed through a couple of blank moments, then she blinked and put it all together.

“Oh… yeah, sure. Sorry…” 

Her face went rosy and he laughed to see it; it was nice to think of her as awkward at times also. Their hands worked together as she wiggled out of her jeans, letting them slide down her legs along with her panties that she stepped out of and tossed aside. He shuffled in closer, his hands now free to go where they pleased, and he breathed his delight across the skin of her thigh, nuzzling in where it met her hip. She moaned again and then he heard a scraping noise and saw her hand digging into the wall behind her.

“Okay?” He barely lifted his mouth from her skin to say it.

She didn’t respond, instead sending her free hand back into his hair and pushing his head lower. He smiled as he moved, ghosting over her with heated breath that raised goosebumps on her he could feel under his hands. He got where he wanted to be and she shuffled her legs a little further apart, but he did one better. He pressed in close, directing her waist back into the wall with a press of his hand. Then he skimmed his fingers down the back of one thigh, clasped the underside of her knee and hooked it over his shoulder, her calf draping down his back. She gasped a little as he did it, and he waited for her to get her balance, and then with a hand wrapped over her knee and one on her hip, he spread her wider.

“Oh man…” she whispered and he hadn’t even started yet.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, stroking her kneecap lightly.

“I know.”

The hand on her hip drifted down and outlined her, trying to get his bearings. He groaned when his fingers came away wet and she shuddered at the touch. It blew out his circuits a little and he found himself gasping through the sensation, his forehead pressed to her belly. He realized that his pants were insanely tight again and thought he’d better get on with it before he lost control once more. He dipped forward, now outlining her with his tongue. Her calf tensed along his back and she tried to push her hips closer to him. He outlined her again, this time ending with a series of lazy circles around her core. He was only using the tip of his tongue and she tried to get more contact with a pulse of her hips. He resisted the urge to lose himself in the smell of her, the warm slip of her against him; he repeated his light passes over and over, listening to her whimpers intently as he gaged her progress. The press of her pelvis became thrusts and her noises took on an edge of frustration that he felt wasn’t wise to provoke, so he made his move. He latched onto her center, hard, and sucked until her gasping became a movement that he could feel shimmying through her hips. He flicked his tongue under the pull of his lips and she cried out unexpectedly, her heel digging sharply against his back. His pulse throbbed and his dick screamed for attention when he did it again and it elicited his name from her in a frantic huff. He nearly lost it.

 _That’s what I meant… just that way…_ , he thought, and was shocked to hear him say ‘that’s it’ aloud as well. She made an interrogative whimper and then she tugged his hair sharply.

“Again,” she gasped, and he did as he was told. 

He pulled on her insistently until she shuddered his name again, and then he broke contact flicking his tongue over her instead. He alternated hard and soft, strong and then teasing, as she squirmed to get closer and panted through the sweetest string of curses he’d ever heard. He hummed his appreciation and the resulting vibration sharpened her all over. She whined beautifully and her thigh twitched where it pressed against his cheek. A wave pulsed through him then, scorching and immediate, and he stiffened against her pulling his mouth away and gasping as he strained painfully in his clothes. He grunted, gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead to her belly again, as he breathed through it. He spasmed and then eased, still hard and unsatisfied, but now with a little of his control restored and an uncomfortable wet patch in his designer suit. Then his lips were back on her, mindlessly slipping over her just to hear her excited, staccato breathing.

“Pleasepleaseplease…” she mumbled.

“Please what?”

“More…”

“Where? How?” he whispered into her.

“L-lower…”

He moved without hesitation, stretching her wider as he went, and she cried out a little even before he got there. Then he was licking her forcefully, stiffening his tongue and going for broke. He burrowed in, smearing her across his mouth and along his cheeks like a glutton. It was glorious and chaotic, and he actually felt his mind let go as he gave himself over to her musky taste, her slick warmth, and the feel of her throbbing beneath his grip. Her hands now pulled hard in his hair and he hissed at it between passes, but it was lost to the plaintive cries leaking out of her. There was a primal eloquence to her in that instant; he couldn’t have imagined how amazing she would sound when she just let herself go like that. And he couldn’t believe that she let him see it, that he’d managed to break her open and she was letting him have the experience. He pushed his tongue into her again and again, trying to curl and reach as much of her as he could before his jaw complained. There was a knocking sound - once, and then solidly again - and he realized that one of her hands had abandoned his hair. She whined with each breath, the force of each intake trembling through her and into his hands where they held her. The thud sounded again and he finally looked up. Eyes closed, mouth wide, she strained against him. Her spine arched away from the wall and her free hand tangled in her hair, palm pressing into her forehead like she was trying anchor herself. She twitched suddenly as she gasped and her head bounced back into the wall making a soft thud - she didn’t seem aware that she was doing it. 

He pulled his mouth away. “Emily…”

Her eyes flicked open and sought him out immediately. “Don’t stop!”

“Your head though…”

“Spencer,” she growled. “If you stop now, so help me God…”

Grumbling a little, he sunk back again. He slipped into her, swirling this time, and her whines picked up right where she’d left off. But she stopped bumping her head around, so he called it a win. He thrust into her, he arched, and he curled until his jaw cramped, but they seemed stuck at a plateau. She was moaning with an edge of frustration now and it bled off more of his arousal. As he considered his next move, she made the choice for them.

“Spence… I need more.”

“What do you need?”

She looked down at him, pupils blown and hair a mess, then her hand drifted from his head and landed against the one holding her hip.

“Give me those long fingers.” She traced the outline of them where they bit into her. “Let your tongue have a break.”

He held her eyes for a moment and then drew his hand away, slowly sucking his fingers into his mouth to wet them. Her cheeks flushed noticeably and her mouth fell open while she watched.

“Christ, there’s nothing about you that’s unappealing,” she panted darkly.

A blush of his own lit him and he hid his face in her thigh as he pretended to ignore the compliment. An instant later he slid two fingers into her and bodily shivered at the cry it rung from her. He kissed her inner thigh and began pulsing, going as deep as she’d let him while thumbing her sensitive edges with each pass. 

“That’s it…” she breathed. “Yes… just a little…”

He curled his fingers and thrust.

“Fuck!” she shouted as her whole body jabbed towards him. “That’s…”

He did it again and she responded with a jolt, leaning her head against the wall with her eyes rolling shut. One of her hands rose under her shirt and he watched as the worn cotton moved rhythmically over her breast. Her belly went tight and a flush raced down her neck as she reached out clumsily for his wrist with her free hand… _Fuck is right,_ he thought.

“Yes?” he growled, his whole being waiting for her to set him free.

“Yes! Sonofabitch, yes…”

A throb rolled through him hard enough to curl his toes. He gasped and momentarily scrabbled on his knees across the hardwood to prevent himself from coming, and then he funneled it into her. Pushing her hard with his hand and dipping his mouth back to suck her to oversensitivity, he tried to follow the frantic jab of her hips as long as he could. Her pace quickened, then stuttered, and then she clasped the back of his head painfully and rolled into him so he could barely breathe. She lifted again and again like a desperate tide, and then she released one tight, heart-cracking sob that sounded a lot like his name. He gasped wetly while tracing ‘I love you’ over her skin, and worked her through it until she sagged back against the wall and all he could hear was the rasp of her breathing. He eased away, gently lowered her thigh from his shoulder, and held her steady as he watched her eyelids flutter and her heaving settle. Her hair was a static tangle where she’d rubbed against the wall and her shirt was bunched around her in crisp creases revealing the smooth span of her abdomen that led back to him. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and just watched her. It took a long time for her to come down but he drank it in - her beautifully unguarded self, under his eyes and hands for the first time. This was never supposed to happen but here it was, and it was so lovely.

When she opened her eyes again and tried to focus, he cleared his throat gently. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” She looked down at him and smiled, her hand falling clumsily into his hair.  
“Looks like you didn’t need that mulligan after all.”

“Oh… thanks.” His cheeks heated and he ducked his eyes. “I’m gonna keep that in my back pocket, if you don’t mind. Just in case.”

She laughed softly and it drew his eyes back to her. She was soft and blissed out all over, and it made every inch of him simmer and throb. _I did that to her._ Her hand tugged at his hair lightly as she bent closer.

“Sure thing, babe. Whatever you want.”

“Babe?”

Her mirth dimmed a little. “Too much? Not your style?”

“I…ummm, I dunno. I guess I didn’t plan on earning an endearment so quickly.” His chest swelled as he thought about that. “But I think I like it though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Really.” He grinned and she seemed both shy and bolstered by it at the same time. _Awkward kids never really grow up, do they?_ , he thought to himself. Kinship with her echoed through him again.

“Okay then. I think it’s time we got you off the floor. Will your knee be all right?”

“Should be.” He stood carefully and eased his weight onto it. It ached from the fall and the hardwood but wasn’t worse for wear otherwise. He brushed against her while he shifted and she breathed in sharply. “What?”

“You’re still hard.”

“Well, that was about you.” He felt embarrassed. 

“I thought your control was obliterated.”

He shrugged. “Messing with my trick knee gave a little of it back.”

“Hmmm,” her brow creased like it was a problem worthy of serious thought. “Well, that won’t do. We’ll have to take care of it.” She pointed towards a set of stairs that led to a loft level. “You, me, bed, now.”

“That’s not… I mean, you don’t… it’s considerate of you and all-” he stuttered, looking to the ceiling for help. “Ummm, you _just_ …”

“Came. Yes, I know. I was there,” she responded dryly seeming quite stern for someone dressed only in a Joy Division t-shirt. “And it was spectacular, thank you. But leaving you limping and frustrated wasn’t part of the plan. Looks like it’s time to calculate my refractory period. Bedroom. March.”

She wiggled her finger at the stairs again and a wave of affection flowed over him. “Are you trying to bed me with the lure of science?”

“Whatever gets you there, babe,” she smirked and then gave him a quick, soft kiss. “I’m not done with you, and you are _clearly_ not done with me…”

_No, I’m not. I never will be._

“You have kind of a bossy afterglow. Has anyone ever mentioned that?”

“Less talk. More walk.” 

She twined her fingers through his and led him to the staircase. He followed, limping and fighting his pants once again, with a grin he couldn’t hide if his life depended on it.


	6. Chapter 6

Reid watched Prentiss’s face as she exited Hotch’s office and descended back into the bullpen. She’d been putting off the conversation for a couple of weeks but he finally convinced her that it wouldn’t get any easier the longer she waited. A part of her life - a part she loved - was ending and he didn’t want to rush that, but her problems hadn’t gone away. She jolted herself awake at night more often than not, and when he held her close to calm her, the shaking was almost more than he could bear. At first she’d tried to distance herself from him but he’d seen it for the avoidance tactic it was and called her on it immediately.

“I knew what I was getting into,” he asserted in his darkened bedroom, as he pulled her back to him and made her face it.

They stayed up late many evenings talking over her options and when the opportunity appeared over in the Domestic Threat division, he thought that they’d finally found the luck that had eluded them for years. Still, it wasn’t easy for her to do, and telling Hotch was only part of it. He watched her walk to her desk, brow creased in thought, and knew that the next step would be the hardest. She stood still for a long time staring into space. It took all that he had not to reach out for her.

“Hey, Prentiss,” Rossi sauntered up with a stack of files. When she didn’t respond, he waved his hand in front of her. “Earth to Agent Prentiss. Come in, Prentiss…”

She did a little double take and then grimaced at him. “Is that for me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Yep,” Rossi grinned. “Seniority has its benefits.”

He held out the stack to her but she raised her hand to stop him.

“No, really, you shouldn’t have. But I’m glad you’re here, Dave. I’ve got some news to share.”

Rossi cocked an eyebrow and Prentiss sighed deeply, straightening her shoulders as she turned to face the rest of the team desks.

“Hey, gang? Gather ‘round for a sec. I’ve got something to tell you all.”

Reid kept his seat because he was right next to her anyway, but J.J. rolled her chair closer and Morgan and Garcia wandered in from where they’d been, out of the way and presumably flirting with each other.

“What’s up, P.?” Morgan asked while the others settled.

She took a deep breath and dove right in.

“I just gave Hotch my notice. I’m leaving the BAU.”

Garcia let out a shocked ‘oh!’ and then covered her mouth. J.J. looked quietly concerned in that subdued way she’d honed while at State, and Rossi just placed his files on Prentiss’s desk mostly in an attempt to avoid showing his surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Morgan seemed angry. Reid’s protective instincts rose up in him but he pushed it aside; if she needed him, she’d let him know. She turned to face Morgan, her face softening with sympathy. In a way, Morgan’s reaction was the least unexpected and that must have been comforting to her.

“This job takes its toll - we all know that,” she continued gently. “I feel that my usefulness as a profiler has run its course, and I’ve certainly gained enough nightmare fodder to last a lifetime. This decision has been coming for a while, and I didn’t make it lightly. You guys are my family…”

She gulped and he leaned forward in case she lost control, but seeing his movement must have pushed her on.

“Holloway over in Domestic Threat has just been promoted to an AD position, and Cruz knew that I’d recently fielded a job offer from another agency, so…”

“You’re the new SSAC of the Domestic Threat unit?” J.J.’s eyebrows rose, impressed. “Congratulations, Emily. That’s a pretty nice feather for your cap.”

“Sure is. Nice pay bump too.” Rossi smiled, leaning on the files he’d dumped onto her desk. “Guess I’ll have to fob off my extra files onto Brainiac over there instead.”

Reid made a face.

“Even so, I’m glad we aren’t losing you entirely, Emily,” Rossi added wistfully.

“Yeah, I’ll still be in the same building.”

“Different floor though,” Garcia huffed. She dabbed at her eyes behind her glasses. “Who am I going to take inappropriate coffee breaks with now?”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” J.J. piped up.

Prentiss smirked knowingly. “I’m sure I can manage to sneak back up to the sixth floor regularly, Garcia.”

“Not the same,” Garcia pouted and then narrowly avoided the snap of an elastic that J.J. catapulted in her direction.

“No, it’s not.” Morgan stepped forward, still obviously angry and refusing to fall for the light acceptance that had bubbled up from the news. “Why are you doing this, P.? If you have ambitions, you could’ve done that here. Hotch would’ve been receptive to it… hell, you could’ve had my job if you wanted it. You just needed to ask. I hate the paperwork anyway.”

“Derek,” she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “It wasn’t about a promotion. It’s just time to go, okay? On my terms.”

“But Domestic Threat?” he looked incredulous. “That’s all analysis and preventative initiatives. It’ll be boring as hell, Prentiss. I know that being in the field is the juice for you…”

“Not anymore,” she said firmly. “And it’ll be refreshing to try and prevent atrocities from happening for once instead of showing up afterwards to clean them up.”

J.J. and Rossi nodded their heads but Morgan still wasn’t going for it. 

“Nah, I’m not buying it. What aren’t you telling us, Prentiss?”

“Derek…” Garcia warned but Prentiss waved her off.

“You’re right. I have other reasons for wanting a change, but they’re personal, Morgan. It doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about each and every one of you. _You_ are the reason why I put off this decision for as long as I did.”

Morgan grumbled and crossed his arms but didn’t say anything else. Invoking ‘personal reasons’ was an effective tactic with him, but he certainly wasn’t happy about it. Prentiss suddenly looked back at Reid, worry pinching the corners of her eyes. He knew what she was asking and after a moment, he nodded.

“Tell them,” he said quietly.

“Tell them what?” Rossi asked.

“You sure?” Prentiss ignored everyone but Reid.

“It’s okay.” He got to his feet and moved to stand closer. Then he reached out and gently thread his fingers through hers. “Tell them.”

He heard Garcia gasp and then turned to face the team. Everyone was wearing matching looks of complete disbelief. He tried not to find it offensive.

“You guys…” Garcia whispered an instant before she rushed forward and clasped them both in a bone-crushing hug. Prentiss stiffened a little at his side but he just melted into it. Garcia had trained him well after all. “Love blooms…” she enthused through her ruffles and curls.

“Well, that’s definitely a personal reason,” Rossi quipped.

Morgan seemed embarrassed. He looked away and his face got rosy. “Why didn’t you just tell me to mind my own business?”

“I did, in my own way,” Prentiss chuckled and breathed a sigh of relief when Garcia let them go. “It’s fine - I wanted you to know about this anyway.”

She squeezed Reid’s hand tightly and he smiled with pride for the first time in front of his friends. _She wanted people to know that we’re together, that we’re a team now…_

“But it’s not my only reason and I’m not prepared to share the rest. I hope you can respect that, Derek. It was time for a change and I’m finally ready for it.” She leaned towards Morgan to grab his attention. “I _want_ this - believe me.”

“Okay, P., okay…” Morgan moved in for a bear hug of his own. First Prentiss, and then Reid. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, kid,” he warned as he retreated, but he smirked as he did it.

“Believe me, nothing can adequately prepare you…” Reid murmured.

“Hey!” Prentiss gave him a slightly alarmed look and then elbowed him.

“I meant it in the most flattering way possible. But I should probably shut up about that, shouldn’t I?”

“TMI,” she smiled and nodded.

“Not ENOUGH information would be more accurate,” Garcia huffed. “How long has this been going on anyway?”

Prentiss’s gaze warmed as she glanced back at him. It made him ridiculously happy all over. “A while.”

“A while? How long is _that?_ ” J.J. chirped up.

“Long enough that we had to figure out a way to avoid being fired because of it. Obviously.” Reid grinned and rolled up on the balls of his feet. He heard Prentiss chuckle beside him.

“Well, that explains the new spring in your step lately, Reid.” Rossi gave him a knowing wink and Reid considered giving him a detailed explanation of how the endocrine system functioned in humans. It didn’t involve springy steps of any kind.

“I’m so glad you guys found each other,” J.J. said quietly, looking a little emotional whenever her eyes flicked over their clasped hands. “You need to take care of each other.”

“We will,” Reid said.

“We do,” Prentiss added almost immediately. Reid caught her gaze and held it as if they weren’t in the middle of the bullpen. Somewhere in the background he heard Garcia declare ‘adorable!’ with a teary enthusiasm that promised her continued investigation into the Prentiss/Reid affair for the foreseeable future. 

J.J. cleared her throat and Reid dropped his stare from Prentiss, his cheeks heating at his distraction. “And I hope you do come up for coffee often, Emily. Without you around, this place will become a regular sausage fest.”

Reid blinked. Prentiss cackled, throwing her head back with glee. “I’ll come back just for that sort of sparkling conversation alone, J.J.”

“Cool. My crafty plan has legs…” J.J. grinned and rubbed her hands together in a menacing way.

Rossi’s eyebrows rose as he peered at J.J. sideways. “Maybe I should start wearing a cup to work…

“Maybe you should.” J.J. arched an eyebrow in return.

“Oooookaaaay, anyway… When are you officially flying the coop, Prentiss?”

“A week Monday. There’ll be a week overlap between my arrival and Holloway’s departure to smooth things out.”

“So, I really do have to find someone else to take these files, huh?” Rossi tapped the stack of paperwork.

“Yes, Dave, you do.” Her voice was sarcastic but she suddenly let go of Reid and drew Rossi in for a hug. Rossi’s eyes grew big but he hugged her back earnestly.

“We’ll miss you, Bella,” he said softly, then his eyes flicked over her shoulder and caught Reid. “But we know you’re in good hands.”

Reid nodded to Rossi and then felt a hand squeeze his arm. Morgan was next to him giving him the same sort of quiet deference Rossi had. It was a new feeling for him: to be admired and respected for something he had that others didn’t. And what he ‘had’ wasn’t so much a possession as a responsibility, one he had every intention of earning for as long as possible. 

“Well, I guess this means we gotta have a party,” Morgan grinned and nudged Reid with his shoulder.

“Oh, yes! Party! Yes… we must!” Garcia twirled. “I’m all over that. Fear not, intrepid sleuths, we’re not letting our girl go without a toe-curling blowout…”

“Oh God,” Prentiss rolled her eyes. “I feel hung over already.”

“That’s the plan, honey,” Garcia shot Prentiss a finger gun salute. “Gotta go. Things to organize, schemes to hatch…”

They all watched Garcia disappear down the hall to her tech den and then Morgan scrubbed his face. “Heaven help us.” Then he moved forward and gave Prentiss a big, grappling hug. “Sorry about before, P. - for giving you a hard time. You gotta do what you gotta do. I’ll always respect that.”

“Thank you, Derek” she muffled into his shoulder.

“I just want you to be happy.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ll miss you like crazy though. There’s no one I’d rather go through a door with.”

“Stop it, man. Or I’m gonna cry all over you.”

“Whoa!” He backed away dramatically with a blinding grin. “No need to threaten me with the big guns, now…”

Morgan turned and chucked Reid on the shoulder, winking as he did it. Then he loped off towards his office. Reid turned back and saw Prentiss and J.J. wrapped in a hug before both she and Rossi retreated leaving Reid and Prentiss mostly alone at their desks. Reid slid up beside her and sagged against the edge of the desk, then he bumped her side a little.

“That went okay, don’t ya think?”

“Yeah.” Prentiss looked fine but her voice sounded sort of soggy. He found her hand and curled it into his, just holding her securely next to him.

“Change is a terrible, traumatic thing. It always has been. Don’t believe it if someone tells you something different. They are probably just trying to sell you something.” He sighed and then faced her surprised look with a reassuring smile. “It’s traumatic unless it leads to something better, and then you get to brag about beating the odds until the end of time.”

She laughed and blinked back the tears that she was trying to hide. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but this might. Everything changes, all the time. You can’t stop it, so it’s not very useful worrying about the outcome. And consequently, if you don’t sweat the outcome your odds of success improve immeasurably. People have actually studied this.”

Her smile got tender and she leaned in slightly. “I don’t think that was an inspiring as you’d hoped, but thanks anyway.” She squeezed his hand. “I love you.”

His heart hiccupped and restarted under his ribs. He swallowed hard and then leaned until his mouth was next to her ear. “I love you too,” he whispered. It still felt forbidden to admit it here. She sighed and sagged against him from hip to shoulder.

“So, my problems make it obvious why I have to take on the odds. But why are _you_ doing it, Spencer?”

He let his smile stretch slowly knowing that she could feel it against her ear. “Oh, you know me, Emily. I’m a secret gambler.”


	7. Epilogue

_**Two Years Later** _

 

“I’m leaving now, Em…” he called out from the hallway as he pocketed his keys and a fat money clip, but not his credentials. He did a once-over in the mirror and adjusted his tie.

“Hold on…” She rounded the corner and jogged down the hall to meet him. “You’re not going anywhere until I see the suit.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes but stood still as her hands moved appreciatively over the tailored lines. He’d chosen the hand-sewn navy, two-button with the soft shoulders and the double-vented jacket. The waistline was a little trimmer than he favored for day to day wear, but Prentiss told him it made his shoulders seem broader and gave him a taller, more powerful silhouette. During these events he needed all the help he could get when it came to physical illusion. He’d paired it with the dark blue dress shirt and silver tie that she preferred with this ensemble. She tugged at his cuffs unnecessarily but he didn’t mind; the nit-picking was worth it to feel her eyes wash over him like he was the perfect meal.

“So?” he cocked an eyebrow and waited for the verdict.

“Flawless,” she sighed, and then tenderly tucked an errant curl behind his ear. “Wish I were going too.”

“That would sort of ruin the cover.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t like being out of the loop.”

He stepped forward and cupped her cheek. “You’re out of the loop because you’d distract me and I have to be completely focused in order for this to work. I’m going to be someone else for the evening - I have to live it.”

She nodded and then tugged the center line of his jacket. “Just promise me that you won’t take any unnecessary risks…” she murmured.

“I won’t,” he whispered stepping into her and brushing his lips over her mouth. Then his hand drifted down to land across her belly. “Not when you’re already taking enough for the both of us.”

Her hand layered over his and squeezed. “Well, you wouldn’t let me become an international art forger, so…”

She was going for humor but her smile fell when she took in his expression. She wouldn’t be showing for a while yet and they hadn’t told anyone at the Bureau, but he was already terrified by the finality of what they’d set in motion. He was trying to keep it in check for her sake but clearly wasn’t doing a good enough job with that.

“Spencer-”

“I’m sorry. You know it’s not the baby I’m upset about…”

“It’s the 25%,” she finished. “I know.”

“Emily, you just don’t know what it’s like to live with something like that dogging your steps.” She already understood all of his objections - he didn’t know why he was going over them again. It was an old, useless argument. “This child will spend some of the best years of his or her life living under a shadow. And if our luck runs out…”

“Spencer, look at me.” Her tone was an order and he complied. Her gaze was clear, focused, and uncomplicated. She wasn’t upset or emotional or riding one of those unexpected hormonal crests that he was going to have to learn to anticipate better. “Whatever happens - and I mean _whatever_ \- you and I can handle it. It’ll be decades before we know one way or the other. Decades of memories, decades of love. And if our luck falls short, who better to help this kid find a way through it than you, Spence? We’re gonna be there together and we’ll help our child get the best shot at life they can.”

He was ashamed that he couldn’t be more optimistic - he felt like he was failing her again. He tried to hide his face from her but she pulled him back with a warm hand on each cheek. 

“Remember I told you that if I were with someone with this kind of history and I loved them enough to want a family that the numbers wouldn’t matter?”

He nodded.

“Well, guess what? You trumped the numbers the day you told me that your love would follow me wherever I went. I was done after that… just _done._ No doubts whatsoever. There’s no one I’d take this kind of chance with but you. I didn’t even question it, didn’t stop to worry about whether it was the right decision or not. This kid could be born green with horns and a tail, and it would still be the most amazing, worthwhile risk I’ve ever taken. I’ve accepted it, I’m not worried about the outcome, and I have absolute faith in our ability to pull this off. You wanna know why?”

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She smiled her secret smile at him. “Because you’re a gambler and I’m a thief. We’re gonna dodge and scam and con our way to happiness this time. The odds don’t apply to us. One in four? We’ve got this - we’ve _totally_ got this.”

He sighed heavily but gave her a grudging smile anyway. It would take more than just talk to erase his worries, but she did make a point.

“And, by the way, because I’m over forty I’m pretty sure that you should be more worried about the green-skinned, horned infant scenario anyway.” She winked. “My OBGYN has all but convinced me that I have a better chance of giving birth to a unicorn than having a normal, first-time pregnancy at my age. So, if you’re looking for something to realistically fret about…”

“You’d prefer that I focus my energies on raising Hellboy, I get it,” he smirked and she laughed delightedly.

“Hellboy… oh man, that would be kinda awesome actually.”

“You are _so_ weird…” He kissed her, soft and lingering.

“I’m exactly your kind of weird, so what are you complaining about?” She kissed him back hard, her hands clutching him close, moving to get more of him. He moaned and slipped his arms around her, one hand tracing up her back and brushing the edge of her hair.

“Spencer, do you believe me? Say you do,” she gasped against his lips when they broke apart.

“I… I believe in us. I believe that we can do almost anything if we’re honest and moving forward together.”

She paused. “The books say that men don’t really feel a connection to their children until they see them. It’s different for mothers… we’re connected from the get-go. I think we’ve got time to figure this out, Spence. The longer you live with the idea, the more comfortable you’ll get with it, I’m sure. Once you start seeing the little guy as _yours_ rather than a mathematical probability, things will get easier. But I’ll tell you what my ‘Mom gut’ is telling me.”

“What’s that?”

“The kid’s gonna be all right.”

He pressed their foreheads together. “I want that to be true so badly,” he breathed.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she smiled. “I’ll work you into believing it.”

He nuzzled into her neck and skimmed a hand back around to hold her belly again. “And if not? Little Hellboy.” He patted her. 

She giggled. “Little Hellboy.”

They held each other for a minute in silence before she pulled back and smoothed her hands over his shoulders again. “Okay then. You’d better get going.”

“Yep.” He tried to blink himself back to his cool, calm cover identity. “I won’t be too late, I promise. And if it turns out the table’s cold, I won’t waste my time.”

“Alright… keep me posted. Now go out there and earn twice your yearly salary in one evening.” She pointed at him and winked. He just rolled his eyes again and turned to leave. “Oh, wait a minute! Ring…”

She held out her hand and then he looked down at his left hand. He sighed and worked the band off, dropping it into her palm.

“That never seems right. I feel naked without it.”

“It’s a tell - you told me that. Besides,” she looked him over from head to toe. “You are emphatically _not_ naked right now. But, if you play your cards right - both literally and figuratively - you _could_ be naked later. With a friend.”

She grinned and wiggled her brows.

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow of his own. “Then I’d better go. I’m on a clock now.”

“Yeah,” she walked him to the door. “Those Bennington cheques won’t write themselves…”

“Oh, tonight isn’t about Bennington. Mom’s care is covered for the next year at least.”

“Well then if it’s not for your Mom…” she looked confused.

“It’s for Hellboy,” he shrugged like it was obvious. “Thought we should get a start on his college fund.”

Prentiss blinked hard and fast for a few seconds while color rose to her cheeks. Then she brushed her face quickly, like she was wiping away tears he hadn’t seen. “Spencer… really?”

“Uh, yeah.” His hand moved to cup her hip and hold her steady. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her; maybe he should’ve just spent the evening playing cards, invested the winnings, and told her about it years down the road when she brought the need up herself.

“But that means…” Her sentence trailed off wetly.

“It means what?”

She paused for a moment and then her expression blossomed into an incredible smile. She reached out, cupped his jaw, and drew him in. She took her time, curling gently, opening up to him as his hands slid around her in confused wonder. He dipped in and lingered, and she licked back softly inviting him in again and again. His hands moved over her back, skirted her waist, and then trailed up again to trace the warm, soft skin at the back of her neck. Eventually she shivered away from his lips and he felt flushed and tight all over, still at a loss about why she’d done it in the first place.

“Should I stay?” he breathed against her lips.

“Oh no. You’re going - there’s no doubt about that now. It’s important.” She nipped his lower lip and gave it a mischievous suck. “But hurry back ‘cause I’ve got a whole bunch of ways I wanna thank you for being the best decision I ever made.”

“Oh.” He looked confused and then he thought about it and then he finally got it. And _then_ he felt embarrassed about being so obtuse. “Okay… well, I’ll just go then.”

He untangled himself from her, tried to shrug back into his gambler persona, and then grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Love you,” he said. “Back soon.”

She grinned and jutted her chin at him. “Knock ‘em dead, babe. We’ll be waiting.”


End file.
